


The Dragon, Waiting

by pirlepet



Series: The Garden of Beasts [2]
Category: Fate/Prototype, Fate/Prototype: Fragments of Sky Silver, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Consent Issues, Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-01-30 10:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirlepet/pseuds/pirlepet
Summary: Sequel to Where the Fever Lies. The wedding may be over, but the war is just beginning. Lancer, Archer, Berserker, Assassin--how many can Arthur and Ayaka save before Manaka dances the world into darkness?But Manaka is not the only enemy waiting in the shadows. When the unthinkable happens, Ayaka--left alone with allies she cannot trust and a “husband” she despises--finds herself trapped in a nightmare she never could have anticipated.The only way out is through. Before the Tower falls, Ayaka and Lucius Tiberius must save the remaining Servants, find the missing Grail...and stop the man they love before the Sword that Saves the World becomes the Sword that Ends the World.
Relationships: Lucius Tiberius (Fate)/Arthur Pendragon | Saber, Lucius Tiberius/Saber/Sajyou Ayaka, Lucius Tiberius/Sajyou Ayaka, Saber/Sajyou Ayaka (Fate/Prototype)
Series: The Garden of Beasts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1299497
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fuck it, it's here.
> 
> less sex, more angst. still gonna be sex though.
> 
> this, as the summary says, is a direct sequel to _where the fever lies_, so if you haven't read that, you probably ought. if, for some reason, you decide to dive in blind, know that there's a lot of dubiously consensual sex here. _where the fever lies_ turns on a forced marriage between lucius tiberius, arthur and ayaka, so if that's a problem for you, please don't read.
> 
> yes, the summary is referring to the person you think it is.
> 
> the title comes from john ford's excellent novel _the dragon waiting_. it's an au fantasy about a europe where the byzantine empire became the dominant power. it has vampires! and richard the iii! read it! if you find a copy for sale BUY THAT SHIT immediately <s>and send it to me</s> because it's long out of print and rare.
> 
> i'll be leaving the chapters that i originally posted as _triptych_ up in their original form, but the versions that appear here will be the final ones. changes have been made, as you will see.
> 
> enjoy!

Rice massed like clouds against the pale blue sky of the bowl. Miso soup, gently steaming. Pickles, sweetly tart and sour on her tongue, better than anything she could ever hope to make. Tea the green of spring leaves.

“I’m going to put mushrooms in the omelet.” Arthur turned to look at her over his shoulder, the fine lines of his brows drawn tight in concentration. “Is that all right with you, Ayaka?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled through a mouthful of rice, then swallowed it all in a hard gulp of embarrassment. _What am I thinking? My manners are usually better than this._ “I mean...” Rice caught in her throat; she sputtered and coughed, her face bright-burning red. Tea slopped over her fingers as she fumbled for her cup, still wheezing. She bent to drink, and as soon as her lips touched the rim, her glasses swung forward, then fell off.

A hand, large and hot, replaced her glasses, patted her cheeks with cool linen. Dried her fingers. “Still alive, sweetheart?” Laughter trembled in his voice. Flushed with humiliation, Ayaka pulled the napkin away and wiped her streaming nose and eyes, hiding her face in the napkin’s crisp white folds. 

“What I meant to say,” she said hoarsely, with as much dignity as she could scrape, “is that I’m fine with anything you’d like to make.”

Arthur looked at her, pan in one hand, an uncracked egg in the other. “Your desires are paramount,” he said quietly, and broke the egg in one deft movement. “I am--” 

“Your sword, your Servant, your devoted and eternal slave.” Lucius Tiberius’s chair scraped loudly against the tiled floor as he leaned back, one boot propped on the edge of the table, and smirked at them. “We know, heart of mine, we know. It’s a lovely gesture you’ve insisted upon, this meal...preparation, but talk less and cook more. I want to be out to Ayaka’s before the sun gets much higher. Low light plays better with illusions, and I’m trying to keep mana cost down as much as possible.” His smirk hooked a little deeper into his mouth. “So, eat up, my darling and quickly--just be sure to chew first.”

She shot a look at him around the edge of the soup bowl she had just lifted, then shut her eyes and drank it to the dregs. Setting the bowl aside, she took the pickles up, alternated between bites of rice and tender pieces of sour plum, and fervently wished Lucius Tiberius’s seat empty.

_I know it’s hard, but hold it back, Ayaka. Let him have his stupid jokes._ Pickled daikon, cool on her tongue. _We need him and we’re stuck with him forever; make the best of things._ Nukazuke, carrot and cucumber. _So..._“Lucius Tiberius. Um.” She made a vague arc over the remaining pickles and rice. “Do you...uh, want anything?”

“No thank you, sweetheart.” His smile was soft and touched with a strange bitterness. “I appreciate the gesture, but this is your meal. Made for you.” He glanced at Arthur and a slight frown crossed his face. “Speaking of which:I know we both want nothing but the best for our Ayaka, but--are you nearly done, love?”

“Just about.” Arthur’s voice was cool, and something twitched across the Sword Emperor’s face, disappearing before Ayaka could put a name to it. He sat up, boots knocking against the ground and propped his chin on folded hands, his eyes glittering.

Arthur set a golden crescent down in front of her, then bent and tipped her face to his, gently touching his lips to her forehead. “Here, Ayaka. Let me know what you think.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, and for no real reason at all, shivered.

Arthur’s gaze sharpened. “Is something the matter?”

_Three...no, four days ago, he made breakfast at the house. It was the day before we left for Caster’s workshop. He was Saber then._ Smiling, a dark apron over his red shirt, pretending for a little while that he wasn’t a Servant called for bloodshed and battle, but instead something like...a friend. Moved by a sudden impulse, she reached out and brought his hand to her lips. “Ayaka?”

A kiss to his fingertips, his knuckles, the smooth dry back of his hand. “It’s stupid. It’s nothing. Really. Just--” She pressed his hand to her cheek, then gave him one last kiss and released him, moved knife and fork. Cheese flecked with herbs flowed over the small brown curves of mushroom. One bite, then another, and she looked up and gave him a shaky smile. “I was...I was thinking about how, before, when we were...home, you made breakfast that last time. So I should have made it this morning. It was my turn.” 

His face tensed, then softened, and his hand clasped hers once again. “Cooking for you is a pleasure, not a duty, Ayaka. Any burden I can lift off your shoulders is a joy to me, so please, don’t worry about it.”

Lucius Tiberius regarded their hands through half-shut eyes. “Worry instead about the sun getting too high,” he said in a ice-touched murmur. “Lovely, _eat._”

Stung, she let go and bent over her plate, eating steadily. _What’s up with him? Is it because I slept so long? Then why didn’t they wake me? I didn’t force them to let me sleep for hours and hours after we arrived here._ Wandering for what felt like days through pipes and tunnels and defunct sewer lines, every nerve tight; waking, cold and alone, to a room full of shadows and empty of Arthur.

_For a moment...just for a moment...I thought I was still at home._

She glanced at her husband. Arthur had settled across from her, a mug of green tea in one slim hand. Eyes downcast, clad in the blue tunic he had worn in life; armor, for the moment, dismissed. _I...I might never see him just be “Arthur” again, huh._ No more teasing and joking, no more helping her in Garden, doing laundry, taking out the garbage. _Even though he really shouldn’t have been doing stuff like that in the first place, but...he..._Tears prickled, and she ducked her head, eating faster to hide them.

Movement flickered in the corner of her eye. A dark shape touched in gold was coming towards her, inch by slow inch, stealthy as only a 6'3 man with a shock of dark red hair could be. Frowning, she put her fork down and watched as Lucius Tiberius crept nearer and nearer, his chair scraping behind him, until he was right against her, his thigh pressed to hers, his sharp chin hovering near her shoulder. “Umm...yes?”

His voice was humble. “May I have a bite? I changed my mind. It smells too good.”

_I did offer. Argh!_ “Oh...oh, all right. Here.” She cut the smallest portion she could without being insulting and held it out. With a boyish grin, the Emperor leaned in, closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

_Seriously? I’m not the Servant here, you know!_ Grimacing, she thrust the fork at him, but Lucius Tiberius dodged her clumsy attack and caught it deftly, laughing as her cheeks burned. “Not a morning person, are we, darling?” His hand curled over her as his lips closed around the fork, thumb caressing her wrist, the curve of her palm. A tiny pulse of heat went through her body and she choked back the urge to shove the fork down his throat.

The Sword Emperor released her and chewed, an expression of startled interest, close to confusion, lighting up his face. He glanced at Arthur, watching with a frown, said “This _is_ good, love,” and took the fork from her to steal a tiny corner off the remaining omelet. “H-Hey!”

“Ah.” A sudden kiss, tongue hot in her mouth, and then he was pulling away to filch another tiny piece. “Forgot to tender payment in advance. My apologies, sweetheart.” _I’ll be sure to make it up to you later,_ he purred in her mind, and she saw herself naked and writhing with pleasure, the Emperor’s face buried between her thighs.

Arthur closed his eyes as she sat tight-lipped, her face apple red. “Do you want me to make you one too, Lucius Tiberius?” he asked, and the dry patience in his voice killed the other man’s grin.

“No.” The Emperor’s voice was a snap of lightning. “I only wanted a taste. Nothing more.” He rose suddenly, dropping the fork on the plate, then yanked his chair back to the table’s head, hands so tight on the wood it squeaked. “Finish your meal, Ayaka, so we can go.”

Unease sank cold in her belly as Ayaka quietly, quickly, ate the last few bites. _Arthur, what’s going on?_ she asked, feeling the reassuring brush of his mind against her own. _He’s been weird and cranky ever since breakfast started. Did something happen while I was asleep?_

Arthur was silent. _Yes,_ he finally replied. _We were having a discussion--a personal discussion--and he became a bit...irked._

_It isn’t anything you need worry about,_ he added, feeling her jolt of concern. _I was thoughtless in dealing with him, that’s all. I know better now._ His eyes met hers, green as the sea, with deeper shadows lurking beneath. _Things have changed--for all of us--and it will take no little time time to adjust._

Slowly, she dragged the fork across the plate, miserably aware of the Sword Emperor’s eyes upon the both of them. _Your...disagreement wasn’t about anything serious, was it?_

_Oh no,_ he said quickly. _Merely a small personal matter._

“You finished five minutes ago, Ayaka,” the Emperor said softly, “and as engrossing as your private conversation surely is, talk time is _over_. We need to get going.” A servant appeared from air, took away the empty plates and cutlery before she could blink. “I’ll go first; then you two will head out from the north exit. Antonius will guide you.” 

A female servant appeared with the coat she chosen earlier, the plainest of a really expensive set, and without warning began tugging it over Ayaka’s shoulders. She flinched, twisting away automatically; the coat fell to the floor and to her raging embarrassment, the Emperor began laughing softly. 

“Not used to being well treated, are we, sweetheart? Don’t worry. You’ll learn, in time.” He picked up the coat, gave it a shake, then draped it over her shoulders. Ayaka shoved her arms through the sleeves before he could do more, fumbling furiously at the buttons as her face burned and Lucius Tiberius watched, grinning. _Lovely, you’re so lovely when you’re angry,_ he crooned and stole two kisses before she pushed her way past him and went to stand by Arthur. 

Arthur, assisted by another servant, had kilted his tunic at the waist, then slipped a pair of modern pants over his breeches and boots, a black greatcoat and grey scarf neatly covering it all. “I’m ready, if you are,” he said, and took her hand in his. 

“Right,” the Emperor said. His smile was gone, leaving his face drawn and pale and strangely young. “I’ll open the way. See you two in a bit.” His mouth met Arthur’s, quick and hard, and then he vanished, leaving them finally, blessedly, alone. 

Arthur’s hand moved in hers as she took a deep breath. The air still smelled of his cooking; if she closed her eyes, she could--if she really wanted to--pretend she was still at home. _Three...no four days ago, I didn’t know Lucius Tiberius existed. I didn’t know a lot of things._

Arthur’s love. The way his voice had hitched when they exchanged their wedding vows. The sound of the Sword Emperor’s laughter. The feel of him, inside and around her, swallowing her up, devouring everything like the wolf he was. Destroying in order to protect. Signing away their souls for the sake of the world. Merlin’s rueful, cunning eyes. 

Manaka, dancing as she dragged Ayaka down to a pit. 

“I’m not ready, but I’m going,” she said, and Arthur gave her a small, wonderful smile as she led them out the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally posted as the first chapter of _triptych._ the beginning is new, and some wording has been changed here and there. other than that, it's largely the same.
> 
> author's notes will probably return to the end with the next chapter, as that's all new content.

Their route led from the sewers to a backroom on the top floor of one of Tokyo’s most exclusive department stores. Antonius had muttered some words, summoned a door, and opened it to reveal themselves adrift in a cardboard ocean, boxes strewn every which way.

“Your Majesties need not fear,” Antonius said as they picked a careful path through the room. “The invisibility spell will last until you are outside and safely away from the building. Go in happiness to our Emperor. I shall follow at a discreet distance. Our soldiers are surrounding you even as we speak, ready to spring to your aid at the merest instance.”

_"Happiness" and Lucius Tiberius. Yeah, right._ “Thank you,” she muttered as they emerged into the main floor. It was too early for customers but there were plenty of employees walking around, setting things up for the store’s opening. No heads turned as they walked silently past, but Ayaka held her breath down all six floors, until they slipped into another stockroom and out a maintenance door into an alley.

It was quiet there, and empty. They made they way out, turned a corner, began to walk. It was a good half-hour from here to her home, Ayaka judged, recognizing the landmarks, and she made a mental note to get Lucius Tiberius to tell her exactly where the new base was located. _Even if I have to fuck it out of him. There's no need for this secrecy now that we're married._

Early as it was, the streets were thick with people, and they melded easily into a passing crowd. Antonius’s presence began to fade, and with it, the invisibility spell. No one glanced at her, but several heads turned to watch Arthur. Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and moved a few steps away from him, shoving her hands down into her pockets. 

He moved right back. “Why,” he said in English, “did you let go, Ayaka?”

“O-Oh. Umm. Well, we maybe shouldn’t...let the other Masters and Servants know that...you know. That we’re together. Not just as Master and Servant together. _Together_ together.” Her words stumbled and bumped; she knew English, but was far from fluent in it and long out of practice.

"There are no Servants nearby, Ayaka."

_I know that. I'm not **that** bad of a Master,_ she thought, but didn't say it. “There could be Masters, though. We'd have no idea." Unlikely, this early in the morning, but you never knew. A salaryman Master wasn't impossible. A housewife Master, out for some early shopping. Anyone could be one. Even someone like her.

Had anyone else fought? Caster was apparently dead, but the Sword Emperor's spies had caught sight of what seemed to be a short skirmish between two Servants who might have been Archer and Assassin. Did anyone other than Misaya Reiroukan know that she was the lowest ranking Master? Were they searching for her and Arthur now, assuming, like Misaya, that she would be the easiest target?

_Well, maybe that's better. They'll come to us and we'll have the advantage. Still..._

And there was always Manaka, and her Servants.

Ayaka hunched further, clenching her fists deep in the coat's soft pockets. "I don't want...If the other Masters knew, they’ll...they could try and use it against us somehow.” Misaya Reiroukan’s face flashed through her mind. “I don’t...I don’t know.” 

_You do know,_ he said, but the thought was soft. _What are you not saying, Ayaka?_

Damn it, how could she have forgotten that he could instantly pick out a lie? _That...that I...I love you and I don’t want to share you, or **us**. I want to keep you, and our love, to myself. Secret. Private. I don’t want other Masters and Servants staring at us, sneering at us, picking apart our love, making it into nothing more than a weapon and a trap for us. Like **he** did and will do._ Seeing them look at her, small, plain, untalented, and then at Arthur, all beauty and strength and purity. _They’ll think you felt sorry for me,_ she finished, almost grumpily, and blushed when he laughed.

Gently, he slipped a hand into her pocket, coaxing her hand open. Entwined his fingers with hers. “Don't care what fools think, my lady and my love. I will not hide my love for you. I can’t. I don’t think you could, either.” His voice tightened. "We are already paying the highest price possible for our marriage. The least I can do is celebrate it as the wonder it is, regardless of how others might think and behave."

“I...I can't hide it either,” she admitted, and a quiet warmth filled her. She stroked his knuckle with a finger. “It just...it scares me sometimes. Loving you so much, when we’re fighting this war, and...and anything could happen.” Years of solitude, and now this. Love after less than two weeks acquaintance, love they had pledged against eternity. Love, and all its glory, bright and alone in the teeth of the war. Love lying helpless in the Sword Emperor’s hands.

Arthur’s hand was hot in hers, the palm sweating slightly. The Sword Emperor’s wedding ring pressed against her fingers and her vengeful mind bent it, broke it, turned it to ash. “No matter what happens,” he said quietly, voice almost lost in the noise of the crowd, “we will be together.” _Here, or in Avalon. Never will we be parted. How can we be? Our hearts are one._

“Our hearts are one,” she repeated softly, and dared, against all sense and decorum, to kiss him.

It was the Sword Emperor who greeted them at her front door when they finally arrived, hand in anxious hand. Smiling and bowing to them, holding the door open wide. “Welcome home, sweetheart. Everything’s just as you left it, kept in perfect order for you.”

Ayaka’s hand clenched in Arthur’s. _The nerve of him. Standing there, grinning like a jackal, welcoming me back to my own home--_

_Slowly. Softly._ His fingers moved in hers, sending comfort. _I know this is hard for you._

Lucius Tiberius aside, everything was...the same. Their slippers were waiting in the front entrance as if they’d simply left on a trip to the grocery store. Swallowing through the stone in her throat, Ayaka removed and hung up her coat, then pulled off her shoes--her designer shoes, brought and provided by the Emperor--and slipped her feet into soft shabby cotton once more. Tears welled. She knelt to hide them, slowly and carefully placing the new shoes in the cupboard. _Maybe I can "accidentally" leave them behind. _

“Should you be doing that?” Her voice was quietly normal. “Standing there armored in plain sight, I mean.” 

_Be at ease, Your Majesty,_ Aniketos’s calm voice said directly into her ear. _No one is currently observing us. Indeed, even if they were, I would be very surprised if there are more than a few--if any--mages living able to breech our shields and illusions. We are quite safe from prying eyes._

She jumped and nearly fell over the doorstep, Arthur’s quick hands the only thing between her and disaster. “Don’t do that!” she whispered fiercely once she’d caught her breath again. “I mean...it’s...”

He manifested with the shrill hiss she had learned to identify as a spirit entering or leaving the material plane. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” he said, his eyes penitent behind his thick glasses. “I had forgotten that you are not yet used to our ways. I shall endeavor to be far more careful in the futu--”

“Save it. Business awaits.” Lucius Tiberius swept them inside, snapped his fingers. The living room bloomed suddenly with people, a cacophony of colors and languages. Roman soldiers, women and men in silks and homespun, some crowned. Smoke moved in one corner, a strange form that almost looked like it could be some kind of demon. Her heart jumped. “Silence. All of you. Your Empress is choosing which possessions she’ll bring back to our base, and which will be stored away. Her words are as mine.” He touched her elbow, drew her forward. Eighty pairs of eyes fastened themselves to her. “Go ahead, Ayaka.”

She took a deep breath. Let go of Arthur’s hand, wiped her damp palms on fine wool. Wiped them again. “Good...morning. Um. I can pack my own things. Clothes, I mean. I don’t have much.” If only her tongue would stop stumbling over itself. “The only thing I really need help with is Garden. The doves need to be transported, and I want to bring some of the smaller plants and taking cuttings from the rest. Just...just in case. Does...is there anyone here who knows about plants?”

The Emperor laughed. Red crept slowly up her neck. “Of course, sweetheart. I have a whole swath of gardeners.” Another snap and a new group of men presented out of thin air, kneeling, caps in their hands. “You’ll be serving the Empress in her garden. Do as she tells you. Didius, you’re in charge of the birds.” 

More bows and they were gone, one second before her, the next second inside Garden. “_Wait,_ tell them not to start until I’m there. They can take the birds, but--” 

Lucius Tiberius lifted his chin slightly and all movement inside Garden stopped. “Don’t worry, darling. They won't lift a finger until you arrive. Your word is law, after all.”

“Sure it is,” she muttered.

A gentle cough came from behind her, and she turned to find Njeri, the mage second in command, her dark hands folded respectfully before her. “With your permission, Your Majesty, Aniketos and I offer to pack and inventory your honored father’s workshop. Since, as you stated, you left everything as it was when he most unfortunately passed, there may be knowledge he left behind regarding the previous War that may prove of service to us.”

“Yes, and since we have yet to be able to do so, this would also be a fine opportunity for us to interview His Majesty about his experiences and especially--” Aniketos cleared his throat, “about the previous Servants.” He and Arthur exchanged a look, and Ayaka felt a secret passing in the air between them. “Is that acceptable, Your Majesty? It will be a productive way to pass the time as we wait for Her Majesty to finish her leave-taking.”

The look Arthur gave her was solemn, and slightly bashful. “Is that all right with you, Ayaka?”

“Of course,” she said, a shade too cheerful, too loud. “I have plants to dig and you have important information to share. I'll be fine. Njeri, Aniketos, you can pack up Pa-Father’s workshop. There’s a seal on the door, but I’m sure that won’t give you any trouble.”

“No indeed, as we have--begging Your Majesty’s pardon--already been inside.” Something must have changed in her face, for Njeri continued gently: “We needed to be absolutely certain that the house had not been breached in any way, and as your...there were possible artifacts connected to the previous War inside, we felt it best to take no chances. I am sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said softly, and raised up on tip-toe to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “Go ahead. I’ll get started in Garden.”

The place that had been made and left for her, and her alone. Her and Arthur's special place. Swarming with the Emperor’s men. She closed her eyes, a sudden weariness creeping through her body. _No. I don't have time for this._ Sighing, she straightened her shoulders and went, pushing away the sound of footsteps moving towards her father’s workshop. _I'm just going to think about Garden, and the plants. Nothing else._

“Wait a moment, Ayaka. There’s someone I want to introduce to you.”

Lucius Tiberius, waiting for her just inside Garden’s door, lounging against one of her favorite trees. Anger swelled inside her, burned the weariness away. “We’ve been so busy with the change in base and all, there’s been no time for proper presentations. That needs to change soon: my people deserve to meet their new Emperor and Empress and you two need to learn who’s serving you. In the meantime, though--” Taking her arm, he snapped his fingers, and a man appeared; taller than the Emperor, broad as two houses, his face like a slab of broken rock. “Behold: Junius Brutus. The head of my generals. On the incredibly rare occasions when I or Arthur can’t be with you, he will be.”

The man flung himself down before her, a shudder rocking the earth. “Augusta! I am your most humble servant! Please, order me as you see fit! Eternally, I am your creature!”

Ayaka took one step back, then another.

_Calm down, darling. He looks menacing but he can only hold one thought at a time in that thick skull of his. Such as “completely eradicate the enemy.” _The soft thunder of Lucius Tiberius’s laughter filled her head. _That’s to his--and our--advantage, though. Too dumb to betray and neither heaven nor earth will stray him from his appointed task until it’s completed. A good watchdog for you._

She swallowed. “...Yes,” she said, her eyes on the sunburned skin that gleamed through the dun-colored strands that blanketed the top of his head. “Um, why is he calling me--” Her tongue tripped on the foreign word “--Augusta, though?”

Junius Brutus’s head shot up, blue eyes wide. “Did I offend? If so, take my unworthy head as recompense!”

“No! It’s fine! You didn’t offend! Really!” A throbbing pain was beginning to grow behind her own eyes. “Um, if you don’t mind, you can help me dig plants and take cuttings--” 

“Augusta, I would fell an entire forest using only my teeth if you desired it!”

The Emperor’s shoulders were heaving with silent laughter. “Never change, o Junius Brutus, never change,” he murmured, then went off into another spasm. “Darling,” he said after he finally calmed down, “‘Augusta’ is a title for the Empress, that’s all. Same as my subjects calling me and Arthur ‘Augustus.’ ”

“Oh,” she said feebly, and he patted her arm.

“You’ll get used to it. To everything.” He grinned, then nudged the still-prostrate Junius Brutus with the toe of his boot. “General, I’m going to check on things, talk to some of the men on guard duty. I leave the Empress in your capable hands until I return.”

Junius Brutus sprang to his feet, causing another shockwave. “Yes, Divine One!”

Sunlight patched gold on green as they worked, the only sounds in Garden Junius Brutus’ noisy breathing and occasional questions, the soft scrape of trowels. None of the Emperor’s men spoke: even the doves had gone silent. 

Left to herself in the silence, her mind wandered back to the morning. No sign of the Emperor's bad temper now: he had been all smiles and shows of caring, ready to do whatever she asked. _That's because he's showing off. He's in charge. Of course he's happy._

_I wonder what his "personal disagreement" with Arthur was about. Was it about me? Is that why Arthur wasn't more specific?_ A knot coiled in her stomach. _The last thing I need is them fighting over me--_

“Shall I pot this one, Augusta?”

Startled, she nodded, and delicately, he placed the cutting in the soil, patting the earth down all around it with his thick, careful fingers. “And this?’

“Yes,” she said absently, and took a deep breath, concentrating on the tree before her. _I should stop thinking about this. Think about Garden instead. Poor Garden._ There was a small sore place in her chest, as if a cold finger had pressed down deeply into her heart. _I’m sorry,_ she thought, as she had every time she uprooted a plant, or precisely cut a tree. _I’m sorry, Mother. I’m trying to protect you, just as you protected me. I can’t--_

Movement flickered to the side. She turned.

The Sword Emperor came towards her, Florent in hand, black coat snapping in the wind, and she sprawled small and cold on the ground body roaring with pain grit in her face and dust between her teeth watching his grin flash through tears as death came towards her with crimson sword upraised--

_Ayaka?_

“Augusta?” Junius Brutus blared into her ear. “Are you well? You are so pale!”

Dirt. Her forehead touched bark. Fingers dug deep into the ground, warm earth. The pot had fallen off her lap, cuttings and soil scattered over her skirt. She blinked. Hand on her arm, leather and metal. A gently possesive hand. “Are you all right? Ayaka?” Rider’s face, very close to hers. “Ayaka?” Tension, concern. She looked at him through the damp screen of her hair, then rose and stumbled rapidly away. 

_Ayaka?_ Arthur again, thick with worry. _Are you all right?_

“I’m fine.” _I’m all right._ “It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she called, not looking back. _Lucius Tiberius just...startled me, that’s all. I’m fine. Stay with the others._ Sweat poured down her back like a summer storm. “I’m going to get some water. Don’t--” 

Three steps into the kitchen and Lucius Tiberius materialized before her, waiting with folded arms. “--Follow me,” she finished, and glared at him.

_Very well,_ Arthur replied, his voice tight with resignation. _But if he “startles” you again, I will not hesitate to come._

The Sword Emperor narrowed his own eyes back at her. “What’s going on, Ayaka?” he asked. “One minute you’re happily planting, and the next you’re white enough to rival the moon. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” She pushed past him, found a glass. Turned on the tap. “I got a little dizzy, that’s all.” The cold water washed out the last of the imaginary dust, helped her swallow again. “Go back outside.”

He didn’t move. “Dizzy, my ass. That was pure fear I felt from you just now. Did you forget that we’re one, darling? I can tell when you’re lying.” Fingers shrouded in smooth leather gripped her chin, turned her face to the Emperor’s. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

Blood thrummed in her head. “You really want to know? Fine. I was planting away, just like you said, and then I looked up, and saw you walking towards me.” A muscle jumped in her throat. She swallowed and swallowed again. Felt a dull coil of heat grow inside her, right in the center of her stomach. “I was kneeling and you were coming towards me, fully armored with your sword out, and all of a sudden I was lying on that filthy roof, crippled with pain because you’d just kicked me. You were coming for Arthur and for me, grinning and grinning, and I knew that we were going to die. And all I could do was watch.”

Lucius Tiberius’s lips moved silently over her last words. His face was very pale. “I...are you telling me that you’re still afraid of me?”

“When did I stop?” she said, her voice a dry croak, and pulled away from those clutching fingers to fill the cup again. 

“But...why?” he said, voice soft. “I thought that...we’d come to an understanding after the other night.” His voice grew stronger. “I thought that you were willing to trust me, let me be good to you. That you knew I would never hurt you again.”

The water eased the heat somewhat, made it easier to speak. “That’s the key, isn’t it? Again. Maybe my mind knows what you promised, but my memory doesn’t. All it knows is that you already hurt me once. And that’s never going to go away. You didn’t notice that I was nervous this morning? You were clearly in a bad mood. And that made me afraid.” She stared into the glass, at a mote of dust floating in the remaining water. “The past doesn’t die just because you say it does, Lucius Tiberius. I think...that a part of me will always be flinching away every time you touch me. Every time I look up and see you standing over me. Every time you take Florent in hand. That’s the price of your eternity, Sword Emperor. And...I think that we’ll be paying it forever.”

A splatter of pain, from his mind to hers. “Ayaka--” 

She set the glass down in the sink. _I wonder if I’ll ever use it again._ If she left, or died, would the next occupants of the house find it waiting, the mark of her lips still on the rim? “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Go away. Do something useful for once. I’m going to pack.” 

Air shrilled behind her, but she didn’t turn around, taking the stairs to her room two at a time. The bathroom--she’d stop on the way back for her toothbrush, her plain drugstore soap, no-frills shampoo. No more smelling roses and honey every time she moved, another link in the chain binding them to the Emperor. Her little room, tucked into the end of the hall, white door shut. So quiet. _I wonder if I should also take Arthur’s clothes while I’m here._ She hesitated; then, feeling strangely shy, she turned and crossed the house to the spare room. Neat and sunny and smelling of him. _Arthur._ Shirt, pants, jacket. Boxers, and she blushed slightly as she took them up, tucked them between shirt and pants. _Don’t get embarrassed over something like that, dummy, she scolded herself. He’s your husband!_

Shoes and socks. _I don’t have anything to put these in,_ she realized. _Or my own clothes either. I never needed luggage before._ Regret flared in her, a small black star; she’d never traveled anywhere, never spent a night outside her own home. _I couldn’t even go on the senior class trip because Garden and the birds couldn’t be left alone for long. And now..._

A dark spot appeared on Arthur’s shirt. She blinked, then quickly put his clothes down, made a neat pile outside the door. Swiped furiously at her eyes. _My gym bag,_ she thought. _I still have that._ She stopped in the bathroom for a tissue and cold water, dabbed at, and dried her eyes. Unlocked her door. _It should be in the clos--_

Clothing piled on the bed. Books pulled out of the bookcase, stacked on floor and nightstand, some opened. Drawers half out of her dresser, the underwear one clearly rifled, and Lucius Tiberius peering into her closet, dresses dangling from the crook of his arm.

_“What are you doing?”_

The Sword Emperor looked at her with sly innocence. “Helping you pack, lovely. Isn’t that useful?” Another dress slid into his hands and he studied it gravely, a grimace turning his mouth. “Though I’m not sure we shouldn’t just burn the lot and start over. Don’t you have anything pretty?”

“Shut up!” The gym bag was in the back corner, buried under her summer duvet. She shoved past his legs, knelt to drag it out. Landed on her one and only pair of heels. Biting her lip against the pain she extracted the bag and retreated to her bed, grabbing whatever her hands touched, filling the bag until the bed was empty.

Lucius Tiberius leaned against the wall, bright eyes following her every movement. One hand toyed with the hem of a cream wool skirt, pleating and pinching the fabric, folding it back, letting it spring free. “Please let me buy you better clothes.”

“No.” She took sweaters out of her dresser, pushed them down into the far corners of the bag. “I like my clothes.”

“They’re dowdy as hell, and unworthy of my Empress. And--”

“And I like them that way.” Ayaka yanked the dresses out of his arms, spread them over her bed. Began to fold them. The blue and white striped, the grey, the navy. A loose thread on the pale pink. She worked it free, smoothed the ruched fabric. _All of these dresses are...old,_ she thought. _I haven’t brought anything new since I graduated high school. Before I graduated high school. Well, there wasn’t much point, was there?_ She folded it, placed it with the others. Reached for the brown. _It’s not like I saw anyone or went anywhere after I left school. And...I thought I was going to die. Which..._

Hands on her shoulders. Leather, metal and mint. Her lips tightened, but her hands continued to move without pause. Folding and packing, the last of the dresses dull blue in her hands and Lucius Tiberius slipped both arms around her in a gentle embrace. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. Soft hot kisses over her cheek. Hands lightly stroking up and down her arms, tracing the very edge of her breasts. “Stop for a bit.”

Blood immediately sprang to her face “I knew it,” she muttered and yanked the zipper so hard it almost broke in her hands. “_I knew it._ Two whole days without sex was too much for you, huh? Can’t you think of anything else?”

The Emperor took the bag from her hands, laid it on the ground. Guided her to sit, the mattress crinkling under her weight. Hands clasped hers, raised them to his lips, and then he was sinking down to kneel before her, his shin guards ringing dully upon the wooden floor.

Violet eyes looked into hers, soft as the flower. “The only thing on my mind right now,” he said, voice low, “is helping my wife.” A kiss on her clenched knuckles, the thin tender skin of her wrists. “You’re spinning with turmoil right now, darling. It’s running through me even with the wall you’ve put up. Let me make it better. Let me help you.”

Her heart quickened with anger, with the look in those truth-filled eyes. With desire, thin as a thread and sharp as a knife. “You call this _help?_”

Fingertips to his lips. The gentle heat of his mouth. “How else can I make you feel better? All you like about is me,” he whispered, “is the pleasure that I give you.” Slowly, his kisses covered her palms. “My wife, one with me. If you’re wounded, I bleed.” Hand curved to his cheek, cheek rubbed against her hand. A kiss, light as tears, on her lips. “I promised you. No more pain. Only pleasure.”

Ayaka opened her eyes through the kiss, held his. Amethysts with chips of obsidian at their center, solemn yet merry. Dark lashes, the straight bloody slashes of eyebrows under that mop of red hair. Her fingers moved, without thought or volition, traced the arc of his cheekbone, the pale smooth skin of his jaw. Skin soft against hers, a joy to touch. Freckles over his nose, tiny and faint--how could she have not noticed them before? Thumb on his lips, tender skin, the flick of his tongue. The soft pinch of heat between her legs. Frowning, she took her hand away, ran it over his eyebrow, and he nuzzled his face into her palm with a little moan.

“Let me be good to you,” he whispered. “Let me give you better memories to replace the painful ones.” 

Her traitorous heart beat faster. _Well, this **is** what you wanted. This is what you’re working towards,_ the calm little voice that waited in the dark of her mind whispered. _The Sword Emperor focusing on you instead of Arthur. This is what protecting him means. Go to it, Ayaka; he’s on his knees before you. You like that. Make him suffer for his sins. And if he does manage to chase the tears and pain away, so much the better._

_I...I..._

“You...you really think that you can just wipe that memory away? By having sex with me while you’re armored?” she said quietly and wound a lock of his hair around her finger. Slowly, she pulled his head back, until his armor could no longer shield his throat and he lay open to her, pale skin gleaming.

The Emperor moaned and looked up at her, his eyes very bright. “One bad experience, battered and broken by a thousand better ones.” A simple twist and he was free, hands cupping her face, lips soft against hers, tongue teasing, caressing. Tenderly, he captured her, sucked on her, pulled her deep inside him. Heat flooded her body, pooled and sank between her legs. Wet just from kissing, _hate him, hate him_. “Let me show you. Let’s have some fun. I promised to make up to you for stealing your breakfast, didn’t I?”

“All right, _fi-fine_,” she whispered, hating the split in her voice. “But...but make it fast. I don’t want Arthur catching us.”

One hand warm over hers, leaving the other free to roam. Grey cashmere crept upward, set her shivering. The pale skin of her belly, the soft curve of her ribs. Lucius Tiberius’s eyes, narrowed in delight. Her breasts, demure in white cotton. His eyes widened.

“What?” Ayaka asked, feeling a thump of amusement. “Did you really think I was going to wear that lacy red nonsense?”

Wounded eyes lifted to hers. “I picked them out specially,” he muttered, and pushed the fabric away with the tips of his fingers, as if it was filthy.

She leaned forward so he couldn’t see the smile trying to occupy her mouth. “Maybe later, if you’re good,” she said and pinched his ear.

Smooth leather cupped her breasts, squeezed gently. Harder, and she bit her lip. Fingers circled her nipples, stroking and tugging at them until the tips rose against his fingers and Ayaka shuddered, wound her fingers in his hair. Lucius Tiberius smiled at her, slow and wicked, then buried his face in her bare breasts, hot tongue stroking over every inch of her Master’s Degree.

Sweetness raced through her body, set her blood aflame. Ayaka bit back a whimper, pushed him away. Guided his mouth to her nipple instead. Lucius Tiberius said _hmm_ softly, kissed her, sucked gently. Too gently. She wanted teeth, wanted his mouth between her legs. Wanted him to die.

The Emperor pulled away suddenly, touched her cheek. Laid his fingers over her heart. “I wish--”

“That I was your Master?” Words came hard.

He shook his head. “No, not that. You couldn’t handle the both of us, Arthur and I,” and the truth stabbed her, turned her face red with shame. “But every time he looks at you, he sees the bond between the two of you, burnt into your skin.” His tongue flicked over her nipple, circled it, caressed it. “I want that.” A note of wistfulness in his voice, nearly inaudible. “Some mark or sign carved into our bodies, shouting to the world that the three of us are forever one.” Gently, he worked her nipple between his teeth, bit down, and Ayaka cried out, pulling him more tightly against her, coaxing his teeth deeper into her flesh. 

_What’s wrong with me?_ she thought, mind blank as new paper. _I don’t need to get all worked up over him just because I’m seducing him. Him under me, that’s what I want. Not the other way around._ “I--I...isn’t eternity enough? We don’t need more reminders that we’re stuck with you.” She twined her fingers more tightly into his hair, made it a leash for him as her foot slid downward. Found him under the quilted tunic, thicker than the pants he’d worn on their wedding night, and shoved into him. Lucius Tiberius groaned, long and ecstatic, and she forced his face into her breast to quiet him. Her heart beat hammer blows on her ribs. “Besides, you’re...you’re ours, Lucius Tiberius, much more than we’re yours and _I’m not going to let you forget it.”_

Teeth in her skin. _Darling, darling, darling._ Grinding into her foot, moaning like a whore into her breast as he arched and grew harder beneath her. _Yes, yes, fuck me, use me, make me yours--_

_You already are,_ she said brutally, and pushed him over the edge. 

Warmth spread under her toes, between her own legs. Panting, the Emperor laid his head in her lap as she continued to caress him softly, rubbing him, tracing him, playing with his hair. His big hands stroked the outside of her thighs as he laid kisses on her skirt, over the place where her legs met. She bucked a little and gave his hair a warning tug. “That was wonderful, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Thank you. But--” Sharp teeth gleamed suddenly and her entire body trembled on the hook of his smile. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting fucked, not me.”

One hand slipped under her skirt, caressing her hip, the curve of her rear. Both hands inside the waistband of her stockings, inside her underwear, sliding them down, spreading her thighs. Gloved fingers slipped through her curls, gently pinched her nub. Tightened. She whimpered and the fingers slid away, ran softly up and down her folds. Thumb back on her nub, circling, the leather smooth when she wanted rough. Slow-burning pleasure instead of sharp, and she shifted irritably. A metal-clad knuckle pressed delicately against her entrance, sent a thrill of cold through her bones. Pushed in, just a little. Withdrew when she gasped.

Lucius Tiberius looked up at her with a heavy-eyed smile. “More?” His hand rose to his mouth, tongue dragging over his wet fingertips, greedily lapping up every drop.

Ayaka flushed and looked away from that knowing face. Focused instead on her fingers, tight in the Emperor’s hair. _Why am I such a coward? It’s not like I haven’t done this before. Why can’t I look at him?_ “Keep...keep going.”

“Still a little shy despite everything, hmm?” he murmured. “That’s fine. Why let the beast have all the fun? Mice should play too.” Cold metal spreading her wide under the Emperor’s eager, relentless gaze. Smiling, he studied her, holding her open, leaning in close, peering inside her. Licking his lips. The tickle of his breath, the flutter of his eyelashes against her nub, her folds. Burning embarrassment, split with pleasure. Wetness soaking slowly into his fingers. 

“So beautiful, pink and wet and _waiting_ for me. Waiting to be filled and fucked.” A teasing breath over her nub, fear and pleasure bursting through her brain, and she squirmed, furious at her lack of control. “I still owe you a good hard fucking, my sweetheart. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten. Fucked until you can’t walk straight, o my heart’s delight, fucked until you _scream._” Cold slid inside her, moved languidly, soft, shallow thrusts. “Maybe not today, my darling, but soon, very soon.” Fire in her cheeks, ice in her veins, stinging, relentless pleasure-pain. “Fingers first, then my mouth.” Second in and a shudder rippled up her spine at the doubled cold, the thick stretch of his fingers opening her wide. “Then...we’ll see, won’t we?”

The world shrank to those fingers, cold and smooth, metal kneading and tormenting the weak spot inside her, slowly, than faster, the edge of the plate pushed up against her and rubbed just so. Choking back moans, riding his fingers, clamping down on them, shoving him in deeper, hips moving to his sway and hating herself with each escaping whimper. _Don’t...don’t let him get to you...think about Arthur...think about Arthur..._

_Oh god, I hope he can’t tell that we’re doing this._

“My sweetheart still can’t let herself go without help, hmm?” the Emperor whispered, and pulled away abruptly, startling a groan from her. “How about...” Wet fingers curled around her hip and his mouth was on her, biting and sucking. Gently, his teeth took hold of her nub: gently, his tongue curled against it, stroking back and and forth. Teeth, hard enough to burn, working her, then lips, soothing away pain. _Sweet darling._ Sucking her folds, then her nub, teasing her with teeth and tongue and now fingers back again, but three this time, too much with the added bulk of his armor, just too much, filling her so completely and the softest little bite to her nub--

_I don’t want to play too deeply here with armored hands, but..._ Cold at her other entrance, the pad of a finger, slick with her own wetness, caressing, pushing up just hard enough to break and Ayaka broke, gasping and sobbing as her husband groaned voluptuously and swallowed every drop.

All her senses dipped and sang, the room spinning. “We’ll break the bed if we fuck the normal way,” she thought she heard Lucius Tiberius say, and then she was in the air, his arms tight around her, his mouth at her breast. Panting, she grabbed at him, took refuge in the familiar feel of soft red hair underneath her hands. “Wha--” 

“Here.” Her legs hooked over the cold metal of his hip guards, pressed close to his sides. _I stabbed him here three days ago,_ she thought dizzily. Arms around his neck, gold-encrusted velvet scratching at her skin. “Ayaka.” His mouth claimed hers, hungry and sweet. Brought her back to herself. She kissed him back, caught and bit his tongue to make it clear who was in charge, tasted a faint hint of desperation. “Ayaka.” Fumbling at her waist, cloth pulled up and the thick hard length of him wanting entrance. Her back hit the wall, not hard though, with his arm there to shield her. Slowly, he pressed into her, every inch filled, stretching her past what even his fingers had demanded, hotter than Florent’s blade.

_I forgot just how big he is,_ she thought, feeling him full inside her, muscles shaking with the effort of allowing him. _Enormous. Huge._ Lucius Tiberius groaned, kissed her ear. Asked anxiously if she was all right. “...Yes,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “But stop if I say so.”

“Yes,” he whispered, and began to thrust, slow and smooth, rocking her hips with his. Hot, so very hot, piercing her, filling her past the brim. Stroking against her weak spot until it burned, her blood thickening like honey. Ayaka whimpered into his ear, bit the rim. The Emperor’s body jerked, his hips snapping up. A bloom of pain quickly snuffed by pleasure, her walls rubbed and caressed with each thrust. Outside, her nub fondled and pinched and teased until her body went lighter than air and heavier than death, and she buried her face in his throat to stifle her moans. More kisses, a dance of tongues, his cock twitching and pulsing with each twist of her body. _So good, so good, so **good**\--_

_Scream._ The thought leapt up unbidden. _I want him to scream._ She tightened her hold on him, pulled herself up carefully. Threw her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, relaxed around his cock. Tightened. His breath hitched. Smiling, she braced her knees, pushed up again. The ridged metal of his hipguards bit into her skin but it was worth it to hear him gasp, worth the fire that was starting to flicker through her body, setting her alight.

“Tease. Evil, cunning, wicked little beast,” Lucius Tiberius whispered, and groaned into her ear. Nipped the lobe. “Keep...it up Ayaka, and I'm going to come all over your tight little cunt before your orgasm even starts. And...that’s not what we want, is it?” 

“I don’t...care,” she gasped, rising again. “Because I know...you’ll make me come no matter what,” and at her words he shuddered, wrapped his arms around her, so tight she could barely breathe and thrust, harder, faster, so deep it hurt but so good. Darkness pooled in her eyes. She was sinking, every bone burning, losing everything to him again, _I won’t let you get away with this--_

Fumbling fingers yanked his collar aside, and Ayaka sank her teeth into his throat, good and deep, seeking blood. Felt it well over her tongue, just a drop, burning like the summer sun, glittering like champagne. Lucius Tiberius broke apart with a shout, fingers digging into her skin, seed hot as blood filling the cup of her body as Ayaka cried out with him, nerves sparking and snapping with magic.

“You feeling all right, lovely?” the Emperor asked after he’d finished her off with soft kisses, tongue gentle and relentless against her nub. “Not that Aniketos has ever failed me, but--” 

“I’m fine.”

“Sure? No dizziness, no faint feelings--” 

_“Yes.”_ Soft pearl light dappled her palm; she looked at the crystal a moment more, then tucked it back under her sweater. No light escaped the thick cashmere, but Arthur was going to catch her undressed sooner or later. _I’ve got to get stronger, make this unnecessary. Arthur doesn’t need a flashing reminder that Lucius Tiberius and I are having sex._ “I know my body, thanks.”

A softer note came into his voice. “Not sore?” 

Perturbed, she glanced down, but saw only red hair and hands busily cleaning her. “No, not really.” There were gouges on the inside of her knees, thick and smarting, but those could be healed. Inside--she shifted subtly, pretending to yawn. A burning ache and a sense of emptiness, both of which pierced her. 

He looked up at her, a brief flash of eyes, then down again as the towel went softly across her thighs. “Oh? You were getting a little rough back there, sweetheart.”

She bristled and a very strong desire to kick him washed over her. _His face is right there..._ “So? You like it rough. Or are you angry that you lost control first?”

“That’s not the point. And when I said “rough,” I meant on yourself. Did you think I’d miss the marks on your legs?” he asked, wiping the last streaks of his seed off her thighs with the warm damp towel: she’d refused to shower. “This was supposed to be about you, and your pleasure. You didn’t relax. You didn’t let me please you. Instead, you went after me.” He kissed her now-clean thigh, then grinned up at her, sudden and sharp. “Maybe next time I should tie you down, make sure you can’t scheme and tease and torture me until you’re completely worn out with bliss.”

Pleasure and alarm ran through her, sent a pulse of fire between her legs. “You...you first!”

Still smiling he kissed her, slow and hot. Hugged her tight. “Little beast,” he murmured, “my vicious, wicked, bloodthirsty beast. Turnabout is fair play...but you have to let go sometimes, sweet. You can’t always be in charge.”

Metal, leather, the sandalwood scent of his hair. _Neither can you,_ Ayaka thought, unmoving in the circle of his arms. _Neither can you. This is just the beginning, Lucius Tiberius._ Gently, slowly, she cupped his cheek. Took his mouth with hers, bit his lip, felt him laugh. “Darling,” he whispered, “you’re incorrigible.”

_Exactly. Watch me._

_ I’ll prove it to you._

After the third just-one-last kiss, she pushed him off her, peeled his groping hands from her breasts and her thighs. “Enough. We can’t stay up here all day,” she snapped, and picked a clean pair of underwear and tights out of her bag. Buried the soiled ones at the very bottom. “I’m going to change and head back to Garden. Leave everything here for now--”

“Sure you don’t want help?” he said sweetly, his eyes on her butt.

_”No.”_

“Go be Emperor somewhere else,” she said as they came down the stairs, Lucius Tiberius’s arm firmly around her shoulders. His gloves were spotless and her soiled clothes well packed away, but Ayaka couldn’t help feeling that SEX was written on their bodies in huge glowing letters. “You don’t need to hang around me every second--” 

“I’m desensitizing you.”

“_Desensitizing?_ Where do you--” 

Two men carried a desk past them, its surface pitted and shabby with work, while another man carefully wrapped instruments of brass and copper and bronze in white cloths. Njeri held a box of inlaid woods and gestured for a woman to bring her the books she was carrying. From the workshop door Aniketos watched, a leather-bound notebook under his arm.

For a moment she couldn’t speak. _Papa, I--_ “Oh, you’re...you’re done,” she finally croaked. Strange faces turned to her, shrouded with concern. Sympathy. The bruise in her heart spread, grew a little colder, a little wider. “Where’s...where’s Arthur?”

_In here, Ayaka._

_The laundry room?_ she thought, and followed the tug under her breastbone to him, the Emperor at her heels.

The door stood wide, sunlight flooding the room. Inside, Arthur, fully armored, was carefully folding and packing clean laundry into a wicker basket she didn’t recognize.

He looked up with a smile. “I remembered that there was still a load in the dryer from the other day. Some of your sleepwear--oh, and your blouses that I hung up to dry.” Ayaka followed his hand to the drying rack, the drooping white flags of her clothes. Silently, she collected them, let Arthur take them out of her hands, fold and pack them. Stood watching him, his calm sure movements, the contentment on his brow. 

The strain, slight and well-hidden, around his eyes.

Ayaka wrapped her arms around him from behind, rested her cheek against his back. Cold metal under the thin cloth of his hood, and she couldn’t feel his warmth, or his heart. “Was it very bad?” she whispered, and held him tighter, despite the metal dividing them.

Arthur stopped. Rested both his hands, leather and metal, over hers. “No, not bad. Nothing I have not already dealt with. But, you--how are you feeling?” He turned to look at her, his eyes dark with love, while his fingers entwined with hers. “This is well-trodden ground for me, while you are living all this anew.” 

She looked away, feeling inexplicably guilty. “Oh. Um, I’m okay. I guess. For now. I can be...I can be sad later.” A sudden feeling of tears made her blink hard, hide her face against his hood. “We...I...we should just pack everything up and leave as quickly as possible. No way of knowing when we might get attacked.” Warmth seeped into the cloth under her cheek. “Don’t you think?”

“I do,” he replied quietly, and she felt him begin to move again. “I’ll be finished shortly. There’s laundry that I didn’t get to before we...left, though I suppose that can be cleaned at the base. The garbage has been taken out. Non-perishable foods can left behind. I don’t know if it’s worth it to take the other--” 

Lucius Tiberius coughed. She and Arthur both turned to look at him leaning against the door, a slight frown curling his mouth. “You really wait on Ayaka hand and foot, don’t you, love? Making breakfast for her this morning, and now this.”

“Part of a knight’s duty,” Arthur replied quietly, his hands never pausing, “is to serve his Lady to the utmost.”

The Sword Emperor tilted his head to the side, and a new note--hard, impatient--came into his voice. “Yes, but you don’t need to do that any longer, my heart. That’s why I have my people: to handle the lowly work. They’re your people too, you know. Serve Ayaka in other ways--like cutting down her enemies so we can banish sorrow from the world. So we can live in pleasure, the way we’re meant to. You’re the Emperor of Rome now, love. Let these things go.”

Arthur shot him an unreadable look. Continued to fold. “It pleases me,” he said, voice very dry, “to do this.”

Lucius Tiberius sighed, ran a hand through his hair. Looked away. “Is this another peasant thing?”

“No, it’s an Arthur thing,” Ayaka snapped before her husband could reply, “and _leave him alone_. We don’t tell you how to be Emperor. Quit telling him how to be Arthur.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

“So you say.” The Sword Emperor straightened up and turned to leave, tight-lipped. “But remember, love: the whole point behind this marriage was you exchanging yourself for peace, for pleasure, for the world. All the things you couldn’t obtain on your own.” 

Arthur’s body went rigid beneath her arms. “Fulfillment. Reciprocation. We discussed this. Let me take care of you, as I vowed to do. Surrender everything that’s beneath you and relax for once in your lives.” Lucius Tiberius stopped and looked back at them, his eyes glinting shards of amethysts. “While you still can.”

They stood in rigid silence as the sound of the Emperor’s boots faded into the distance. “I am going to murder him,” Ayaka finally muttered, her voice hollow against his armor. “And you can’t stop me.”

Some of the tension left Arthur, and he stroked her hand. “Yes, I can,” he murmured. She could feel him smiling in her thoughts. “But if you promise to abstain from murder, I promise that as soon as this Grail War is finished, I’ll beat him soundly and throw in him in the nearest lake for you.”

The tears couldn’t stop her smile as he took her in his arms, her Arthur, her husband, her true and only love. “Deal,” she said, and sealed their vow with a kiss as the sun surrounded them and turned the entire world to gold.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ve got it. How’s this? A memory loss spell, a light one. We’ll put it on right before you go inside, and then--” 

“Mmmm, no. No. My liege, I am deeply sorry to contradict you, but under the circumstances, I must regretfully state that such a spell would be far more of a hindrance than a help to your plans.”

“Why? What’s the problem with using a temporary amnesia spell? They’re both atrocious actors, and--”

“Excuse me? Atrocious? Atrocious? You’re the one always going on about how I’m a beast hiding as a mouse!”

“And you’re completely, utterly terrible at it, lovely,” the Emperor said and grinned at her, his eyes gleaming. “Anyone with a brain can spot the jagged claws sheathed at those dainty white fingertips of yours, and they come springing out at the slightest provocation. The glasses come off, and then my sweetheart starts panting for blood--” 

“Don’t gesture with your chopsticks!” A few grains of rice had flown free when Lucius Tiberius had pointed at her, shining against the table’s dark wood. With a soft rush of air a servant appeared to silently wipe the rice away before fading back into darkness. 

Ayaka held back a shiver. _ I can’t get used to that. Even if it doesn’t cost him much mana, summoning people just to wipe up rice seems like such a waste._ Slowly, she took another bite of her lunch, then looked up to see Arthur regarding her sympathetically from across the table. She grimaced back. _Can you believe the nerve of him? He’s making me sound like something out of a horror movie!_ A tiny, gentle smile curved Arthur’s lips. _I mean, it’s good that he’s teasing, but could he quit with the nonsense for once in his life?_

“‘Don’t gesture with your chopsticks?’ That’s all you’re going to throw at me?” Lucius Tiberius leaned towards her, close enough to kiss, and heat jumped in her belly. “No tongue lashing, no death threats? Sweetheart, are you all right?”

_Argghgh!_

“I beg pardon, but may I continue? The afternoon hours will soon be upon us.”

Ayaka took a deep breath. “Go on please, Aniketos,” she said quietly and did not miss the frown that crossed the Emperor’s face. _Don’t you dare start getting cranky again. Please._

The mage cleared his throat, eyes flickering behind his thick glasses. “Thank you, Your Majesty. With all due respect, my Emperor, I am advising against the spell because it would fail to function at its full capacity, due to the nature of the bond between Your Majesties. Yes, the Emperor Consort and the Empress would lose their memories of the past few days--” 

_If only_, Ayaka thought, and stabbed again at her salmon.

”--but while they would not remember, they would still _know._ They would feel the pull. The sensation that some fundamental part of themselves was drawing near. They would experience confusion, yes, but not fear--and upon catching sight of you, instead of feeling awe and terror, they would know you for their own and look upon you with loving smiles.”

The Emperor’s hand stilled. “Well, we certainly can’t have that,” he murmured, then deftly split off another piece of his own fish, and ate it. “But,” he continued, eyes still on his food, “weren’t you going to suppress our bond temporarily as well so I can catch Arthur by surprise? Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

“Suppression in this case means only muting Your Majesties’ bond, not silencing it entirely,” Aniketos said gently. “The latter is impossible, and the former can only be done for a certain duration and extent before incurring some very unpleasant side effects. Once you are close enough, recognition will inevitably trigger; our spells will merely have it happen at ten feet instead of a thousand. Given the stakes in play, the possibility of their Majesties reacting in a manner inconsistent with your purported enmity is simply too high. Truly, I advise against it.”

Lucius Tiberius ate quietly for a few minutes, his gaze withdrawn. “I still don’t like it,” he finally said. “Arthur is incapable of lying and we’re already talked about Ayaka.” Only the pressure of Arthur’s foot against hers kept her from opening her mouth again. “I just don’t see how they’re going to convincingly fake shock and fear when Arthur and I “meet” in the bookstore this afternoon. Reiroukan and Lancer may be fools but they’re not idiots. If anything doesn’t ring true, they’ll pick up on it in a snap. Not to mention any other Masters or Servants that might happen to be around.”

“Acting isn’t the same as lying,” Arthur said quietly. He had finished his first serving of fish and was midway through a second. It was the first time he’d eaten a normal meal since...before...giving her one less thing to worry about: even if he only used food as a minor supplement to her mana, it still made her feel better to see him eat. “Besides--” His eyes held the Emperor’s. “Our memories are quite fresh. I doubt we will have much trouble re-summoning them.”

Lucius Tiberius sighed. “You have me there, love.” His left arm moved as if patting: his hand had been somewhere on Arthur’s thigh for the entire lunch and the sight of it made Ayaka hot with anger. _Don’t think about it. You can’t stop him. The only thing to do is keep him busy with you as much as possible. Like this morning._ Her cheeks went scarlet. Quickly, she drank some tea to cover her blush, but the heat remained. _ Nope, no trouble summoning memory ** there**..._

“All right, fine,” the Emperor conceded, after another little silence. “We’ll drop the amnesia spell, but the two of you had better put your entire soul into faking fear and anger once we “meet”. Everything hinges on us tricking them into thinking that we’re enemies. If they don’t believe us today, they won’t believe in our “fight” tomorrow night either. And that could really land us in the shit in the long run.” He twirled the stem of his wineglass between his long fingers, frowning as the ruby liquid rocked in its bowl. “Gods, how I wish I could just kill them all and be done with this. Since I can’t do that and I can’t play much either--” His eyes flashed up at them as he raised the glass and drained it to the dregs, “--then let’s get things done as quickly as possible.”

“I too wish to settle this quickly.” To her immense surprise and discomfort, Arthur laid his hand atop Lucius Tiberius’s. A small, disbelieving smile broke across the Emperor’s face. “Ayaka and I are fully aware of the importance of our task, and the need for haste. We will be convincing. Trust us.”

Lucius Tiberius sighed, then lifted Arthur’s hand to his lips. “You’re mine to keep and protect...If I had my way, I’d be the only one out there fighting. I’d win the war for you. I’d show you how a _true_ beast fights: unfettered, all-conquering. But--you insist.” He placed Arthur’s hand back on the table, stroking it gently. Ayaka clenched her teeth; tasted iron on her tongue, and in her throat. “And that’s fine. We’ll stomp our glory and our power into the world. All three of us, together.”

“No stomping,” she said, a snap in her voice. “There isn’t going to be any stomping, no matter what. I don’t know what you’re planning to do if we win, but this isn’t Rome. You can’t just...I’m not going to let you do whatever you want. Remember that.”

A lie, and a terrible one: she knew exactly what he was planning to do. The words were never spoken but they hummed constantly in the back of his mind, day and night: _Rome, revived, and this time nothing will stop me,_ and the worst thing of all was that he was right.

The Emperor smiled at her, cool and sweet. “Rome is wherever I am,” he said softly and touched his lips to hers, gentle as Arthur. “Rome is everything, everything is Rome, and you are Rome, sweetheart, and so is Arthur. Rome does what it wants, for it is the cradle and the spring, the everlasting source of the world. Everything one, under my--our--hands. That’s what I want. Is that so wrong?”

“In and of itself, no.” Arthur was very straight in his chair and his eyes were that of a judge. “But weigh very carefully the methods and the means you use to bring your promised land about, Lucius Tiberius.”

“As long as the scales balance in the end, that’s all that counts, isn’t it?” the Emperor said, his eyes brilliant, his chin on his hand, a sly, patient smile dancing around his lips. “Didn’t you make the same calculations, come to the same conclusions, love? A village here, a village there; men cut down in their thousands to save thousands more. As long as joy outweighs sorrow it’s all to the good, isn’t it?”

Merlin on the bank, her skirt overflowing with flowers. _As long as pain buys you happiness in the end, it doesn’t matter how bad it hurts in the moment, right? Right._

“But,” Ayaka said, slowly shaping the words along with Merlin, “such sacrifices should never be taken so lightly.”

Arthur looked at her with gratitude and surprise. “Yes. I did what I thought was necessary at the time. Perhaps there was another way; perhaps not. But the sword seemed the only path, and so--I took it. And I bear my sins.” His voice changed, became cool and dark, a river under thick trees. “However--reviving Rome is _not_ necessary. The world still turns, as it always has, and always will, without your hands.” He touched Lucius Tiberius’s cheek; ran a finger over the line of his jaw, and the Emperor sat very still. “For once in your life, could you not lay the Emperor of Rome aside and live simply as Lucius Tiberius instead?” 

Her husband was silent. Then his hand closed upon Arthur’s, brought it to his mouth and kissed his fingers roughly. “You just don’t get it, love. You don’t--but this is not the time. Let’s save this for later, when we’ll have a little more privacy,” he said, and Aniketos looked even more pointedly away.

“Set a time and place then, for I would have this settled before we win the Grail,” Arthur replied, very quietly, “assuming the Grail is even able to grant what you wish. Think on that as well.”

Lucius Tiberius jerked upright, a hard, high color coming into his cheeks. “I said _enough_. I’m serious. We’ve got much more important things to think about right now. Back to warfare. Let’s see.”

Drops of sweat rolled down Ayaka’s back as he closed his eyes. Her hands were shaking slightly and she curled her fingers into the thick wool of her skirt to try and still them. Across from her, Arthur sat motionless, his face calm, hands folded atop the table. Leather nudged her, the toe of a boot moving softly against her ankle, and Arthur smiled inside her mind. She leaned into that smile, wrapped it around her, and sent him one of her own in return.

“Nothing yet, but it’s early. Once the scouts confirm that Lancer and Reiroukan are around, we’ll head out.” The Emperor grinned suddenly and Ayaka felt an odd, annoying stab of relief. “Sweet of Reiroukan to parade herself and her Servant around so openly during the day, then vanish so completely at night, when all proper Masters and Servants should be coming out to fight. I wonder what she’s playing at?”

“She’s...she’s always been a show-off,” Ayaka muttered. A memory flashed up: Misaya Reiroukan getting out of a limousine as all the other students walked to school, gawking as they passed; Misaya being excused from school for an event for one of the charities she directed; Misaya, older than her years, composed and smiling in the midst of a knot of admirers. Something in her belly twisted and she looked down, feeling waves of heat and cold pass through her body, fire and ice settling around her heart. 

“Like us, she is waiting to see who takes her bait,” Arthur said, and rubbed his foot against her ankle gently. “Hopefully she will not be expecting us to dangle our own.”

“Prey and predator reversed.” The Emperor was smiling, his eyes lit with wicked flame. “It’s been far, far too long since I’ve really hunted. Even if it’s not what I wanted, I’m still going to have _fun_. Let’s go get ready. I’ll send a servant to Mother so she can begin her preparations--” 

“No need, Lucius,” a voice said, clear and imperious, and the Emperor’s head jerked up. Light shimmered, then split, sketching a great open door over the empty air at the far side of the room. A mote of darkness formed within, grew larger, spiraled slowly into the shape of a woman, and then she was moving gracefully from the light into the dining room, a second woman trailing behind her. “As you can see, I and Claudia Justina have taken the liberty of summoning ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying shorter chapters this time because there's a lot going on and a lot to deal with. let's see how it goes.
> 
> mmm, you might want to be careful about poking that particular sore spot of lucius tiberius's, arthur. more on that later.


	4. Chapter 4

The air cracked and snapped two more times, then went still as the door ebbed away. Smiling, the first woman advanced in a murmur of blue and gold silk, her lovely face rippling with magic and a vivid satisfaction. “Well? Have you nothing to say? Truly, this is a momentous occasion in more ways than one!”

Slowly, Lucius Tiberius rose to his feet and stared at the women. A wave of deep red curled like a tide over his face. “Really? Really, Mother? You couldn’t have sent a note first? I told you that I would summon you once our preparations had been completed. We’re in the middle of a meal! And the dining room is hardly the place for a formal introduction--” 

“Dear child.” His mother smiled up at him. “You took so long returning from your errands I was forced, simply forced to assume that your consort’s clothing and trinkets were more important to you than a promise to your mother.” Her pale blonde eybrows rose in a delicate, questioning curve. “What was I to do? What was I to think? Could you not imagine my distress? I simply had to come.”

Heat began to creep up Ayaka’s neck. _Why...why is she making it sound like I should be blamed for this?_

“Ah, I fear I intrude. With Your Majesties’s leave, I shall go and ready our magics. Good day to you, most benevolent Empress,” Aniketos murmured, and vanished before anyone could speak.

The Emperor rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Mother--” 

“Nothing is quite so short as the patience of an Empress, is it not?” she cut in serenely. “Though I suppose I am now, more exactly, the Empress Dowager.” Her dark brown eyes, bright and implacable as a hawk’s, searched Lucius Tiberius’s flushed, unsmiling face. Her own was unclouded, tranquil as fresh-fallen snow. “I simply had to take matters into my own hands. Truly, can you blame me? Finally, a marriage, after 1400 years! What mother would able to restrain herself? Especially when one of your consorts is someone I have most ardently desired to meet.” Her smile and gaze left Lucius Tiberius, found and perched on Arthur. “Ah. Yes. You, Arthur Pendragon. Above all else, I have longed to meet _you._”

“Mother.” The Emperor’s voice held a warning note that sent a worm of anxiety crawling up Ayaka’s back. 

“Madame,” Arthur said quietly, and inclined his head.

Still smiling and serene, the woman stepped neatly around the table to stand before Arthur. “Pendragon, King of Britain, I am Julia Drusilla, mother to the last true Roman Emperor, Lucius Tiberius. Devotion has always been my watchword. Devotion to my son. Devotion to Rome.” Cold and serene and no longer smiling, she reached out and struck Arthur hard across the face.

Shock leapt through Ayaka, along with a sudden black fury that took her breath away. “Arthur! Arthur, are you all right?” Her chair crashed to the floor and she found herself moving as one with Lucius Tiberius; pulling Arthur away, shielding him with her body as the Emperor grabbed his mother’s arm and urged her backwards across the room. “Are you hurt? Let me see.”

“It doesn’t hurt, Ayaka,” he replied, his eyes on Julia Drusilla, held tight in the Emperor’s grip. There was a small red mark high on his cheek. With shaking fingers, she reached up, murmuring a healing spell; the mark dulled, then disappeared entirely. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not--” 

“It is not all right,” Lucius Tiberius snarled as Julia Drusilla gazed back at him calmly, unbent by his anger. “Mother, how could you? What were you thinking? He’s mine now, no need to--” 

“Revenge.” Her voice soft with satisfaction. “Revenge--” She turned her bright hawk’s face back on Arthur.

“For killing your son,” he finished, his voice clear and knowing and slightly sad.

She nodded back at him with grim triumph, her embroidered veil skewed over one hectic eye. Julia Drusilla stared at Arthur through a sunburst of gold; then, with a sudden graceful twist she freed herself from Lucius Tiberius, stepping forward. “Yes. Exactly. How dare you! Rome, falling to the peasant king of a backwater mudhole? Unacceptable!” 

The silent woman moved for the first time since they had arrived, coming forward in a dull grey blur to re-arrange the Empress’s veil as Julia Drusilla watched them with a sardonic smile. Her face was blank, save for her tight, grim lips, and none of her movements made any sound.

“You needn’t look daggers at me, Lucius,” his mother said, pulling their eyes back to her. “The desire of centuries, manifested as a single slap--you should be thankful I didn’t resort to any of my more usual reprimands! Well, what’s done is done. And now, Pendragon--Arthur--we may be friends.” 

_Friends?_ Ayaka thought, and stood herself more firmly between them.

Arthur was silent. “I thank you, Madame,” he said finally, “for your consideration, and for your restraint.” 

The Sword Emperor’s mouth twisted as he looked first at Arthur, then his mother, and finally, away. 

Julia Drusilla smiled. “Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Arthur. Leave ‘Madame’ aside: the ties of law and custom are no less binding than those of blood, are they not? You have my permission to call me ‘Mother’ as well.” She folded her long hands demurely before her, rings a scatter of gold and blue light over thin white fingers. The look she gave Arthur was gentle and entirely without affection. “It shall please me immensely to act as your mother. Your own was forced to relinquish you to a family of rustics, was she not? A sad story. Poor child. To be raised bereft of a mother’s love and guidance--such a terrible thing. It leaves an indelible mark.”

“I had a foster mother,” he replied in an even voice, “who was to me much as you are to Lucius Tiberius. Ayaka is the one who never knew her mother.”

She caught her breath as Julia Drusilla finally looked her way, her brilliant eyes pinning Ayaka to the floor. “Of course. Ayaka. My goodness, girl. I scarcely knew you were there, so meek and receding you are!” A step and she was right before her, head cocked, perfume like a wave of sweet fire filling Ayaka’s nose. Desperately, she tried not to sneeze. “Well. Well. Hmm.” One hand lifted and Ayaka flinched before she could stop herself.

Arthur immediately gathered her into his arms, holding her to his heart, but Julia Drusilla merely ran her fingers over the neat blonde roll of her upsweep, and narrowed her eyes. “I...see.”

“Here, Mother.” Lucius Tiberius reached over her head and suddenly her glasses were gone, ruffling her bangs as they disappeared into the Sword Emperor’s hands. “He-hey!”

Julia Drusilla brightened. “Ah, that is something of an improvement.” A cool hand touched her cheek, thin fingers mapping Ayaka’s face. She fought back a shiver. “Yes, not bad. Promising. Good ground in this one, Lucius. You’ll get a girl from her, and perhaps one other child, _if _you’re _very_ lucky.” 

Arthur went very still. 

“A _child?_ A little girl?” Lucius Tiberius’s face split into a wide, ecstatic grin. “Mother, are you serious? Is this a foretelling, a boon?”

“A boon? Perhaps.” The cool hand patted her gently. “A beautiful child. Name her after me.”

Blood rose like thunder in Ayaka’s head. Their words danced around her, sensible but nonsense; they couldn’t mean what she was hearing, no, all that blood had surely drowned them out and changed their meaning. “A baby?” Her voice was high and weak, barely a whisper. “Pregnant? Are you saying that I’m pregnant?”

Arthur’s heart beat like a drum against her back.

“Pregnant?” Julia Drusilla looked at her scornfully. “Now? By all the Gods, what are they teaching the mages of today? Good heavens, _no._ Lucius could no more get a child on you than he could fly to the moon. We’re phantoms, child--yes, we _are,_ Lucius. Unscrew your face. That expression is hardly befitting an Emperor. To return to my point: we’re phantoms, wisps, faint shadows of the past. The Lucius who stands before you, despite his magnificence, is but a slip of his former glory. A splintered grafting from the true tree.” 

Her eyes softened. “You should have seen him alive. Then you would truly comprehend the honor bestowed upon you.” 

Fiery needles worked their way under Ayaka’s hands, under her tongue. “I don’t care about honor,” she said as Arthur held her fast, “and I am not going to have his baby.”

The Dowager Empress laughed, a hard, rich sound. Her color was high, one hand twitching a fold of veil as if it were a fan. “Certain of that? My dear, you are Rome now, and will carry out Rome’s will, regardless of your own.” She looked past Ayaka, to Lucius Tiberius, and a muscle worked in her throat. “If you had properly married...if you had produced a true heir...”

“A true heir would still have been nothing more than a tiny brat when I died, Mother,” the Emperor said, very softly, “and Honorius and his faction would have murdered it, just like all the rest.”

Julia Drusilla drew in a tight, trembling breath. “If you had not....No. Enough. I will not speak of the past, but we will not repeat the past, Lucius. Rome will rise again, with you at its apex, as it should have and _will_ be. The gods demand it. _I_ demand it. This time--” 

“Enough, Mother.” One hand, heavy on her shoulder, the other on Arthur’s. “There’s no point in discussing this until after I win the Grail. And to do that, I need to get moving.” A squeeze and Ayaka was released. “The sun’s waxing and our window of opportunity is waning. Go find something reasonably modern to wear for our afternoon out. We’ll meet again here after we’re ready.” 

Julia Drusilla’s lips moved as if to speak; instead she closed her eyes, breathed deeply and nodded. The Sword Emperor touched his mother’s cheek. “Everything will be all right, Mother. We’ll all be happy, all of us, every single one. I swear it,” he said softly, and at that, she raised her head and smiled, eyes glittering with a strange radiance.

“Trust you for that, Lucius,” she said, and left, leaning heavily on the silent woman’s arm.

The Emperor watched her go, something in his face relaxing, another muscle tightening. _”Well,”_ he said, and grinned, all his sharp white teeth showing. “Can you believe it?” He was trembling, Ayaka saw with disbelief, trembling as he had on their wedding night, in the grip of a joy too big to be contained, and to her horror she felt that joy begin to seep inside and shake her, his mind and heart polluting hers once again. _No! No!_ “I knew it, I knew it all along, but to have it confirmed--”

“Confirmed nothing.” Her voice was so high and sharp it felt as though each word spoken would slice another piece of her lips away. “I am not having your baby.”

His grin stumbled for a moment, and then he knelt to take her hands, grin blooming wide once more. “Oh sweetheart, the baby is wonderful, wonderful, but it’s not just about the baby. Don’t you get it? Please, Ayaka--think for a minute. Darling, don’t you know what this means?”

“W-What?” Arthur’s arms were a shield around her, his heartbeat quiet now against her back. “What...do _you_ mean?”

Lucius Tiberius’s eyes, so close to hers, blazing with concern, with affection, with sympathy. With joy. “Darling, if Mother saw you having my baby, that means we _won_. We won!” He laughed, high and thunderous and bright, his arms held wide enough to span the world, the golden fringe on his epaulets dancing in the light. “We’re going to win, and take the Grail; I’ll re-incarnate myself and Arthur, and then...” His glittering gaze took them both in, caressed them, cherished them. “Our happiness will be complete,” he finished softly, then took up her hands again and kissed them. “Perfect happiness. You’ll see. A world, sweet and peaceful under our hands, and it all starts this afternoon.”

She had to get away from him, before she began shrieking, or sobbing, or both. “Then we’d better go get ready for this great new world, shouldn’t we?” she said through gritted teeth and yanked herself free, dragging Arthur behind her. 

The Emperor said something in the distance, but she paid him no mind, making her feet put as much space as possible between him and her. She stumbled over the thick carpeting, half-blind with rage and grief and the fading punch of Lucius Tiberius’s joy, nearly falling; Arthur caught her, setting her upright again, and his sure hands guided her past the eyes of Roman soldiers, led her back to their room, closed them safely away. Once the door shut behind them, the tears finally came.

She tried to wipe them away before any could fall, and failed. “I am not going to have his baby,” she said, her voice thick and jagged. Hands touched her face gently. “Do you hear me? I will _not_ have his baby. He’s already taken me, body and soul, he’s _not_ getting a baby out of this too, I--” The tears poured down her cheeks, soaking into Arthur’s skin as he drew her to a chair, easing her down among soft wine-colored cushions. “I want...I want _your_ baby, not his. I...”

“I know, beloved. I know.” He sounded hoarse. “Whatever your wish, I will stand behind you. You will never be forced.” 

Frantic with tears and fury, she reached up and pulled him down; licked the promise off his lips. “Arthur,” she whispered, and kissed him through the tears, his mouth soft, and hot with love and grief. “Do you think...do you think...you’re not really dead, right?” Tears stopped her voice for a moment, but she dragged down a breath and continued. “So maybe...” Kisses over kisses, his golden hair caught between her fingers, his hips between her thighs. “We could...right now--” 

“We can’t.” His voice was bleak. “I’m neither dead nor alive, Ayaka, and while my body is not quite a Servant’s, I am no longer truly myself either.” He looked up at her, with eyes tender as spring, and touched her cheek gently. “I’m sorry, beloved. I don’t think it’s possible.” 

“I-I...I know.” Her chest ached as if tendrils of ice were wrapping around her heart. _I know, I know, I know. A war is no place for a baby either, but--I will never let him take everything. You will always be first for me._ Her hands rose; she hesitated, then reached for the waist of her sweater and took it off. Arthur’s lips parted. His tongue moved over them, quick and nervous. “Ayaka?" 

Her bra dropped to the floor. His thighs shifted beneath her as she leaned forward and kissed him, very softly. “Even if we can’t...I...I still want to though. Quick, since we’ll have to go soon. Is...is that okay with you?” 

“Are you sure?” The crystal gleamed as he took it between his fingers, the back of his hand barely brushing her skin, and she shivered. “I know...that you were with him earlier. I could smell him on you when you returned,” he added in response to her horrified look. “That sandalwood smell, all over your body. It’s hard to hide.” 

Small fires leapt in her cheeks. “It was that obvious?” 

His smile was small, and rueful. “To a Servant, yes.” 

“Cover me in you then. Let him smell _us_ for once.” Arthur’s tunic lay in loose folds over his hips; carefully, and a little nervously, she pushed the cloth aside and slipped a hand beneath. She was already wet and breathing in quiet little pants as she found him, hot, so hot, growing under her hands, the cloth straining against the lacing that held his breeches closed. “Ayaka.” Arthur’s fingers entwined with hers and they fumbled at the laces together, their hands stumbling and shaking 

Skin soft as velvet moved under her fingers and he was suddenly cupped in her hands. Tender, gentle little touches, up and down, her beautiful Arthur beneath her, his eyes closed, the hand over his mouth not quieting his groans, his legs trembling under hers as she stroked him over and over, ecstasy setting her blood on fire. _So big, so good, good, I want every bit of you, my Arthur, I love you, love you, love you. Come all the way inside me._ Her fingers were wet, her thighs slippery. Reluctantly she let go of him and braced her knees so she could take her underwear off 

Arthur’s hand met hers as she tugged at the cloth. “Let me,” he whispered, and held her steady with one hand as the other removed the soaked garment. “Ah.” His long fingers slid against her folds, stroking, not as hesitant as he had been on their wedding night, but still slow and careful of her. One by one, each fold was rubbed, fondled, caressed. His thumb circled her nub, then pinched, very gently, and Ayaka moaned, grinding eagerly into his hand. _I want to ride you until I collapse, screaming. I want you to lay me on the floor and mount me like Lucius Tiberius--no! Don’t think about him!_

“Are you ready for me, Ayaka?” Arthur’s voice was so low and thick she almost didn’t recognize it, but his palm was steady, rocking with her hips, rubbing against her. She bit her lip. _If he doesn’t stop....but I can’t--not until he’s inside me..._

“I’m always ready for you,” she whispered and felt her face burn at her audacity. Slowly, she dropped onto him, clutching his free hand, letting the hand below guide her until she was full with him, stretched and burning with sweet fire. _Not as bad as **him** but still very big, I don’t care, Arthur, fill me, fill me._

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” The strangeness was gone from Arthur’s voice and he sounded himself again, tender and worried. “This is all very new still-- 

“No, you feel like heaven and I love you,” she murmured, and kissed him deeply, looping her arms around his neck. “I hate to say this, but quickly Arthur, _please_.” 

The position was a bad one, Arthur sprawled out in the chair, legs braced against the floor as Ayaka curled on his chest, rocking frantically into him. Even so he was so good inside her, hot and thick, cock twitching as she squirmed and moaned against him, his big hands clutching her hips, _leave marks on me, leave your hands on me, I’m yours, Arthur, yours, always yours._ Panting into each other’s mouths, twisting and turning, oh this was a better angle, half on their sides with her leg thrown over him, Arthur, _just like that, just like that_ thrusting so carefully, but so deeply within her, stroking the good spot inside her, _more, more, more_, a sudden rough thrust-- 

He was spilling inside her, hot and thick, sparks of holy fire setting her alight, her name splendid and ragged on his lips, and Ayaka fell apart with a groan, drunk and heavy with love. 

“Arthur,” she said a few minutes later. 

“Beloved?” He’d been shaking out her bra and sweater; now he turned to look her at her, his face tinged with anxiety. “Is something wrong? Are you feeling all right?” 

“No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking, though...” The chilly ache in her heart, temporarily banished by their lovemaking, was rapidly returning. “Merlin told me she couldn’t tell me anything about the future because it would make me try. So why is _she_ showing up and saying that I’m going to have his baby? Acting like it’s definitely true?” A sudden hope lit within her. “Maybe she’s wrong. Merlin said there were so many futures. Maybe she’s wrong." 

Arthur was silent. “That may be,” he finally said. “But, please, Ayaka--remember what Merlin also said. She would not tell you the path to our best future because it was all too easy to fall away from it out of fear.” Kneeling before her, he clasped her hands in his, gripping her tightly. “This child--if true she be--will not be born until after the war. This is not a decision that you need to make, or worry about, now." 

She closed her eyes; felt the ice encase her heart. A great black sweep of exhaustion dragged her under and away. “I know. I _know_. I’m not so stupid, or so petty that I’d sabotage our win just because I don’t want to have his baby.” 

“Ayaka!” 

Her eyes opened; held his stricken ones and an enormous well of love and grief opened within her, splintering the ice. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know that’s not what you meant. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward and his arms came up and around her. Cradling each other, they rocked slowly, Arthur pressing kisses over her mouth, her forehead, her eyes. Gently, she kissed his throat and tasted wetness there; his tears or hers, impossible to say 

“I'll try not to worry. Because if he’s still here after the war, then you’ve got to be too,” she whispered between kisses. “Remember, even if I do ending up having his baby, Julia Drusilla never said I was going to have his _first._” A slow burst of triumph fizzed inside her. _He won’t get his way. I swear, he won’t get his way. _ “Promise me, Arthur. We’ll beat him to it. We’ll have a dozen before I ever have his one--” 

“A dozen!” He choked on a laugh. “Won’t that be rather hard on you, dearest?” 

“I don’t care. If it’s you, I don’t care.” Giddily, she gave him one last hug and got up, taking her clothing back from him. “We’ll win the war, but we don’t owe him a comfortable victory. Two against one; he’s outmatched, outvoted and _alone_.” Stopping at the dressing table for her comb, she smiled at herself in the mirror; brilliant cheeks, blue eyes, bright and hard, and-- 

Gently and carefully, she touched the glass, tracing the line of her skull, then pulled a strand out from the underside of her hair. No, her eyes weren’t lying. 

"What is it, Ayaka? What’s wrong?” 

“My hair.” Dull black on the surface, but underneath...A strange creeping feeling settled over her heart as she held the lock out and copper, shot with sparks of a darker fire, gleamed in the light. “My hair is turning red again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b-b-bombshell.
> 
> well, that arthur/ayaka sex scene turned out to be all kinds of a surprise because that sure as hell wasn't planned.
> 
> julia drusilla sure is something, isn't she?
> 
> ayaka's hair is actually auburn if you look at tinyaka's hair in the fragments illustrations. she just repressed herself so hard after the 1st war it went black. what does it mean that it's turning red again? dun dun dun
> 
> speaking of which: before the holidays, i was daydreaming around, thinking and planning out the next few chapters, and i came up with a fantastic new idea for the next chapter...that, uh, completely invalidates the last two chapters of triptych.
> 
> i'm going with it because it's a great idea and a lot better than what i originally planned, but yeah, chapters 2&3 of triptych are now officially becoming non-canon. i think i *might* be able to repurpose them...but not until the very end of this fic and obviously in a very, very different context.
> 
> but that means two new sex scenes will be replacing the two triptych chapters, so yay? <s>more work for me though :( </s>
> 
> next chapter: the plan to capture misaya and lancer goes into action...or does it?


	5. Chapter 5

Twenty minutes later and his body still burned with the memory of her.

Ayaka’s hair, so fragrant against his throat, her breasts soft and heavy in his hands. He’d touched her shamelessly, stroking her sex with fingers only barely under control, fingers that longed to sink deep inside her and drive her to ecstasy, and then she’d come upon him, slid him deep within her, held him completely, her sex so hot and tight around him as they’d writhed frantically in the chair...

Arthur groaned, his head dropping down to rest against his clenched fists. Warmth in his groin, his manhood shifting uncomfortably against his pants. _Control yourself. Control. Control. Desire has its time and place and this is not the time nor the place. Control._

_See what happens when you deprive yourself of pleasure all your life, love?_ Their wedding night, and the Emperor’s voice, soft with laughter. _You have no defenses against it and it eats you alive. _

A feeling of disquiet began to curl inside him. “Surely, I am not that weak,” he said aloud. Sweat rolled down his neck, seeping into the collar of his shirt. _Perhaps, Sword Emperor, it’s the other way around: you indulge in pleasure all your life, you have no control over it, and it eats you alive..._

_Ayaka needs love right now, not reckless, gluttonous desire. Especially since the Dowager has thrown the child’s existence right into her face._ A chill calm like a sea mist settled over his body, and his heart began to beat more quietly. _My sweet lady. I will always be your shield._

Yes, the child. The bear cub in his dream, who had gamboled so freely at Ayaka’s feet. He had sought further vision in his dreams after those first glimpses; found nothing, and had dared to hope that perhaps he had been mistaken. The Dowager’s proclamations had shaken that hope to pieces, yet he knew that not all prophecy proved true. _Or accurate. Not to mention that there were things I would have appreciated being warned upon, such as everything to do with Morgan, yet not a breath of foreshadowing was granted me. And Merlin spoke of many futures._

_Still, if I could only...for Ayaka’s sake._ His sight had never been a power he could call upon at will, yet now he found himself concentrating on the cub in his mind’s eye, fixing upon every detail he could remember: the soft crimson fur standing out in a halo around its body, the bright eyes, the soft trusting way it had laid a paw upon Ayaka’s knee--

A weight fell across his mind; Lucius Tiberius, coming down the hall towards him. The cub was banished to the shadows and Arthur was sitting upright, arms folded and mind safely blank, when the Emperor opened the door. 

To his surprise Lucius Tiberius was clad simply in black and charcoal grey touched with sky blue, his clothing casual yet unmistakably of the finest quality. Grinning, he looked Arthur over, taking in his plain jeans and red shirt, the black jacket thrown over a chair. “Back to basics, I see?”

“Yes; it’s best to return to status quo as much as possible, I think. Our...leave-taking has undoubtedly raised some eyebrows and appearing in clothing far richer than that we usually affect is not the way to lower them. Ayaka is changing now as well.”

“Is she?” Lucius Tiberius said in an offhand way that told Arthur he knew all about their recent lovemaking. His teeth shone as he smiled. “Maybe I’ll go watch.”

A stone rose in his throat. “Wait. I’d like to speak to you alone for a moment, if I may.”

The Emperor’s grin was slightly sly and slightly apologetic. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

He waited until that grin has faded fully before he spoke. Chose his words with special care. “I want you to please refrain from discussing your mother’s vision with Ayaka for the time being. While we know not whether it be true seeing or false shadow, it’s left her badly shaken all the same.” _I cannot, must not say anything. Neither of them can know. _

“My beast is that frightened?” he murmured. “Of pregnancy? I know that back in our day women had a better than excellent chance of dying while pregnant--witness my birth mother--but this is the modern era. It’s not like that anymore, and she’d have the best of care.”

_Christ in all His mercy, how utterly oblivious can one man be?_ “I do not think,” Arthur said, with slow emphasis, “that it is the childbearing in and of itself that concerns her.” 

“Ah. Of course. It’s the father himself, isn’t it? Me.” He looked away. “Ayaka’s being rather presumptuous, isn’t she? Deciding right now never to have my child, when we don’t know what the future will bring.”

“You will not force her,” he said quietly.

The Emperor began to make a slow circuit of the room. Here and there an ornament would seem to catch his eye and his long fingers would snap, push, prod at it, leaving it askew as he went by. “No, I wouldn’t, and I’m a bit annoyed that you think I would. _No more pain_, that’s what I promised her, and a happy mother makes a happy child. This is my heir we’re talking about, after all. Still...” He sighed. “It would be nice to actually raise one of my kids for a change.”

“You had children?” Arthur asked, truly startled. None of the tales of the Emperor that had reached Britain had ever mentioned one child, let alone several.

Lucius Tiberius’s lips moved into a bitter grin. “Why so surprised? I’ve been fucking since I was fifteen, heart of mine. I prefer men, but I like women too, and I had plenty of them. Most of them knew how to not get caught with a brat if they didn’t want one, but there were slip ups here and there. Some deliberate. I never officially acknowledged any of them, but people knew they existed.” He fell silent. “Most were girls--I seem to run that way--but there were a few boys, too. Never really got to know any of them; they were too young and I was away too often, fighting.” He looked over at Arthur. “You know how it is.”

“Yes,” he whispered, and saw again his daughters--so small they were!--staring, wide-eyed and wary, at the strange man who had invaded their mother’s solar; the man who, after they’d properly addressed him as “Your Majesty” and made him their curtsies, they were finally permitted to call “Father” and receive his tentative embrace.

Eiddwen, Branwen, Olwen. His little girls, forever lost to him, swept away by the black sea of time. _Though, perhaps..._ Ayaka smiling down at an armful of ravens. _But why her? Why Branwen alone?_ “I...I struggle often with the question of what happened to my children after I died; it’s a constant, unrelenting thorn in my heart.”

The Emperor flung himself down in a chair, steepled his hands, rested his chin upon them. “Most of mine were killed by the bastard who took over from me.” Lucius Tiberius’s voice was calm, and flat.

All the lights in the room seemed to flicker and he was once again watching the girls being placed into the cart bound for the abbey, the last time he would ever see them on this earth. But now another picture came: the abbey in flames, overrun by Saxons left unchecked by his death, and three small bodies lay among the slaughtered forms of the faithful. The picture twisted, became new: the abbey again in flames, but this time a triumphant Saxon dragged his wailing daughters by the hand, spoils of battle to be bound as slaves and sold off to the highest bidder--

_No! No._ He took one deep breath, then another; shrouded the images in black and forced them to the utmost limit of his mind. Forced himself to calm. _You trouble yourself with phantoms. You have no proof anything like that ever occurred. These are fantasies, nothing more than fragments of grief and guilt waxed fat upon fear._

“How can you--” he began, and fell silent until his voice was more under control. “How can you know?”

The Emperor tapped his temple. “One of the many benefits of my coalition is access to the knowledge of any individual member. A good chunk of my people fought against Honorius--that’s the shithead’s name; fantastically ironic, isn’t it?--when he usurped the throne after my demise. One of the first things that ratfuck did was hunt down and murder as many of my kids as he and his sycophants could find, so they couldn’t be used as rallying points by my loyalists. Some of the girls got away because they weren’t considered as important, but the boys were all killed, every last one.”

Thorns twisted within his heart. His nightmare, the Emperor’s reality. _Is it worse to know, or not?_ Gently, he placed his hands on Lucius Tiberius’s shoulders; how taut they were under the fine cloth of his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” he said, such thin, inadequate words.

His shoulders moved in a shrug. “Thanks, but you don’t have to feel sorry for me, love. I don’t really grieve for them. Like I said, I never really knew them. Too young, just tiny little brats prattling around, the boys not even big enough to hold toy swords. I had no time for them.” He laughed, sudden, short and dry. “No, I really didn’t, did I?”

Softly, he touched the back of the Emperor’s bowed head.

“Time...” Lucius Tiberius sighed. “Time. If they hadn’t all been so young, one of them might have proved worthy enough to succeed me. One of them might been worthy of becoming my heir. They could have succored the Empire, kept it going. My death became theirs, and--” He stopped. A strange expression flitted across his face. “But death does not exist for me, now.”

“Lucius Tiberius?”

“The past will not be repeated. This time, I will not lose,” he said, his voice frightening in its dispassion. “Rome, eternal and perfect, will live again, as it was meant to, under my hands.”

“Lucius Tiberius--” 

“I will do anything I need to in order to bring forth that world. Our world,” he said, as if Arthur had never spoken. “Victory was denied me in life, but here I walk anew, charged by the gods to fulfill all of their desires. And my own as well. Like you.” A swift brilliant grin spread over his face as he looked up at Arthur, eyes glittering with some curiously unknowable emotion. “I live again to protect you. I promised you joy for suffering, abundance for lack, peace for war, and I _mean_ it, my love. By my hands, by any means necessary, _I will bring forth that world._ I swear it.” He snatched up both of Arthur’s hands and kissed them fiercely. “On my sword and on my life and on my love for you, I swear it. Never doubt my love. Never doubt _me._”

“I--” he began, but his words were swallowed by the Emperor’s mouth. Softly, he stroked Arthur’s cheek, then slid a hand into his hair, his long fingers caressing and playing with the strands. His other arm wrapped firmly around Arthur’s waist, pulling him down onto his lap, and Lucius Tiberius drew him close with a satisfied sigh. “Love, my one and only love, let’s come together once again.”

“Here?” he gasped. “Now?”

Lucius Tiberius grinned at him. “Past is past and the storm clouds are building, aren’t they? I despise sadness. Lust, rage, hatred, greed--they’re all much more to my taste.” One hand crept beneath Arthur’s shirt. “I want to give you some more happiness, love. Once we leave this afternoon, that’s it. No more hiding, no more biding our time. Here starts war, full-blown, relentless and unstoppable. So before we lose the quiet, let’s have some pleasure. Let’s have some fun. Consider this payment in advance.” 

There was a barely perceptible break in the smooth flow of Lucius Tiberius’s words, a flicker in those violet eyes, and Arthur felt a strand of wariness unfurl near his heart. “Payment in advance?”

The Emperor’s eyes closed. “You don’t like war, love, not the way I do. Neither you nor Ayaka is going to be very happy while the fighting’s going on, are you? So--payment against future sorrow. It’s a mere drop in the ocean compared to what I still owe you, but...”

“We really shouldn’t,” he said, agonizingly conscious of the hand caressing his hip. “Ayaka will be here any min--” 

“I told her to wait,” the Emperor broke in sweetly. “We have time, and if you played with her, you can play with me too.”

_Of course. The claim must be stamped once again, burnt afresh, every time one of us couples with the other instead of him,_ he thought, feeling sharp bitterness. _Perhaps he thinks to discourage us if we know that he will always follow..._

No time left for thought, as Lucius Tiberius’s hands were unbuckling his belt, easing his pants and underwear down. Spreading his legs wide so the Emperor could kneel before him, sharp teeth gleaming in his shark’s smile, his smouldering eyes fixed on Arthur’s cock.

_Mmmm._ The Emperor’s hand engulfed him. Head bent, he ran a warm finger over Arthur’s aching manhood, his thumb gently pressing down on the slit, and a muscle jumped in Arthur’s belly. _Mmmm. Will I taste Ayaka on your cock, love, once it’s deep inside my mouth?_

His heart stopped beating, and for a moment it was no longer Lucius Tiberius who knelt before him but his wife, cradling him in her hands, rose-pink tongue extended to lap at the first snow-white drops on the head--

_”No!”_ The word exploded out of him, leaving behind a dull hot pain and a slowly growing embarrassment. “No,” he said again, more quietly, and felt his face flush.

“Pity,” Lucius Tiberius murmured and took him with his mouth.

Ugly pleasure began to surface within him once again as the Emperor ministered to him, his mouth a cavern of fire, his tongue ravenous. He was being licked and sucked upon as if the Emperor was trying to drag his spirit forth from the cradle of his flesh, as if Arthur was the only food that could sustain him and they would shortly be torn asunder for eternity. Each new groan left his lips burning.

A vision: Ayaka, the same hunger in her eyes, climbing atop him, spreading her soft thighs. Stripping off sweater and bra as he watched in a daze, her naked breasts so full and white before him. Yes, her thighs open, straddling him, and her sex wet and eager, and she too would gladly bend down and serve him like this--

_Love._ Teeth in his thigh, a tender warning bite. _Stop thinking about Ayaka, love. I’m the one sucking your cock right now. The two of you don’t think about me when you’re together, do you? Or...do you?_

A new image leapt into his mind. Ayaka, moaning so sweetly as she rode his hand, and then a sudden flash from her mind to his; the Emperor lying atop her, thrusting into her roughly, no care at all for her, no concern, but it felt good, so good, and she gasped in unwilling pleasure--

_Stop!_ he commanded himself. _Stop._ He was trembling, hands dug deep into velvet pile and Lucius Tiberius’s tongue was still softly stroking his cock. _She could not help that. _ Arthur shifted, swallowing a moan and the Emperor smiled, then took him deeper into his throat. _It’s only natural that--_

His husband’s hands gripped his hips, raising them slightly, and then he was wholly inside him, the wet hot ripple of his throat cutting off all thought. One hand began to play with his balls, rubbing them, smoothing the soft curls of hair that grew upon them. _Lord Christ keep me from going mad._ The Emperor’s hair was silk against his belly. His shaking fingers wound into the crimson strands before he realized what he was doing and Lucius Tiberius groaned loudly. _Oh gods, pull my hair love, pull it, pull it, **please--**_

_So you can beg._ His hips were bucking, black light dancing before his eyes. “Going to come.” His lips were dry; he licked them. Pulled tentatively on Lucius Tiberius’s hair. The Emperor’s moan of joy sank into his blood and he tugged harder; forced the Emperor to take him to the root. _Ayaka._ Soft hair between his fingers, and a sweet mouth worshiping him, goading him to endless pleasure. "Ah, I'm going to--”

Darkness blotched his eyes and he heard the Emperor cough as Arthur spent himself down his throat in great waves, Lucius Tiberius’s hair twisted in his fingers. He felt the pull of the Emperor’s throat as he swallowed, sucking on Arthur gently even as he began to grow soft in the other man’s mouth. Lucius Tiberius lay with his head bowed into Arthur’s lap for a moment more, then wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and eased him out. “My.” His voice was hoarse but his grin was as wide and devouring as ever. “I thought I was going to choke, drinking down all your come. Finally loosening up, are we, love?”

“Perhaps.” His own voice lacked strength; wearily, he searched within himself for what tatters of composure he could find. _Though I am certain that this is not even close to over yet. Perhaps I should spare my efforts._ As if in answer to his thought, Lucius Tiberius snapped his fingers and a vial tumbled from empty air to land in his outstretched palm.

“What?” he said, grinning at the look on Arthur’s face. “I’m no mage, but I can do magic, love. I just don’t find it worthwhile most of the time, present circumstances excepted.”

“And did you choose to acquire that skill simply for this?” he replied dryly.

“Hah!” Smiling with pure bliss, the Emperor smeared his fingers with the oil, then rubbed them lightly across Arthur’s entrance. A knot of pleasure twisted inside him; Lucius Tiberius looked up at his face, then kissed his thigh and eased two fingers inside him, working them back and forth slowly. 

A dry fierce ache slowly blossomed within him. “Shall I stay where I am?” he asked softly, fighting the urge to push back against the Emperor’s hand, ride his fingers, make that pleasure grow and stretch, carve its way into the depth of his being.

The Emperor laughed quietly. “Hell no; unlike blowjobs I can’t do this properly on my knees. Stand up, brace yourself on the chair. I’ll take you from behind. Ah, love. Quickly now, quickly.” His pants were already unfastened, shoved to his knees, and his erection glittered white at the tip. 

Awkwardly, his pants still around his knees, Arthur rose and turned, kneeling on the seat, gripping the back of the chair with his hands. Lucius Tiberius’s breath fanned against the back of his neck and he swallowed as the Emperor kissed his throat; licked his ear, the curve of his cheek. “Love.” Teeth in his skin, a hard deep bite, and then he was stretching, split apart once more, clay for the Emperor’s hands.

Fire roared behind his eyes. _God, I’d forgotten the size of the man._ Lucius Tiberius caught his cheek, turning Arthur’s face to his, and kissed him deeply, tongue hot and possessive. “Arthur.” The Emperor’s thrusts were slow and even, but he could feel the barely leashed hunger behind the other man’s restraint, the acid lust eating away at the Emperor’s will. “Don’t...You don’t have to be so careful. I won’t break.”

Lucius Tiberius laughed into his ear. “Greedy, greedy! Or are you just eager to get out of here? I’m not going to hurt you, love; you’re still so new to this.” His fingers slid over a nipple, rubbing it between forefinger and thumb; pinched it softly. Arthur moaned; unwittingly, his hips jerked back against the Emperor’s, pushing him in more deeply and they both sucked down breath. “You really like this, don’t you? Having your nipples fondled, pinched, bitten. I like it too. Feel free to suck on mine sometime. Let Ayaka know too.”

Small fingers stroked over his nipple, cold with nerves, yet tender. His manhood jumped; began to harden.“Stop...talking...about her,” Arthur said through his teeth. “You chastise me and then let your own tongue run freely. When we are together, leave her _be_.”

“Oh, oh, I’m being scolded,” he said and twisted Arthur’s nipple savagely, making him groan. His thrusts were rougher now, hitting that spot deep inside him, kindling the ecstasy that left him husked, burnt and empty. “Fine. New topic.” A whisper in his ear. “Look up, love.”

He lifted his head and for the first time saw the mirror, heavy with gold, that covered the wall across from them. His breath hitched. Was that how he looked, how he was? Face flushed, hair a golden tangle, lips full and parted and the Emperor’s hands upon him, pinching and pulling his nipples until his skin was crimson under his hands. Crimson as the Emperor’s hair as he leaned upon him, driving deep, his body rocking with Lucius Tiberius’s rhythm, under his control, his, his, his---

_Mine, **yes**,_ the Emperor snarled and then Arthur was coming into his hands, his voice lost in the Emperor’s as he spilled himself deep within Arthur’s body.

Lucius Tiberius had merely to rearrange his physical form to be clean, but Arthur was not so fortunate.

“Nearly done in there, love?” 

Cold water rubbed into his face, across his chest, between his legs. _Done? Barely started and I know not what I am becoming. _ He plunged his head into the icy water in the basin. Stayed down, in the silent blackness, until his lungs began to burn and diamonds winked across his eyes.

“Love?”

He released himself; rose to the surface. His dripping face looked back at him, ghost-like, from the mirror; fighting off a chill, he dried himself, straightened his clothing, and opened the door. 

The Emperor glanced up from the magazine he was flipping through as he sprawled on a couch, long legs crooked up against the cushions. “Shouldn’t you dry your hair?”

_Ayaka will do it for me,_ he thought automatically and felt blood rush to his face. _What is wrong with me?_ “Yes, I should. Are you,” the words fumbled over his tongue, “capable of doing that?”

Lucius Tiberius straightened. “You mean with magic?”

“Yes.”

“Should be. Come here, and I’ll give it a try.”

With a curious feeling of reluctance he walked to the Emperor; made a place for himself among the cushions at his side. Lucius Tiberius frowned, then laid one hand on Arthur’s hair. A feeling like strong sunlight washed over him and then the wetness evaporated, leaving his hair soft against his forehead. “Thank you.”

The Emperor grinned and kissed his cheek. “Don’t mention it.”

Arthur looked at him, noting his content smile, the warm air of satisfaction that seemed to envelop him like a summer day. _This may be my last clear chance. Anything may happen once we walk out that door. Anything could happen **now**_. “Lucius Tiberius.”

“Mmmm?”

“In regards to our earlier discussion--how soon can you have someone here?”

The shadow of a scowl touched the Emperor’s mouth, then lifted away almost as soon as it had come. “Tomorrow afternoon, if everything today goes according to plan,” he replied and laid two rough fingers against Arthur’s lips. “And don’t even _think_ about the money. I’ll handle everything, as I swore to do when we were married.”

“Yes, I’ll leave all of the arrangements to you,” he said quietly. No use stepping into that quagmire again, at least not at this moment. “And thank you.”

A slow smile moved over Lucius Tiberius’s mouth. “No need to thank me,” he murmured. “I’m just doing what every good husband should. For both my spouses.” 

The door snapped open. Ayaka stood framed within shadow and dark wood, her face pinched into a glare. She'd flung on an old blue skirt and a shirt faded with many washings, and Arthur had never seen her look so beautiful. Her eyes raked Lucius Tiberius over; quartered and gutted him. “Finally done?”

The Emperor’s smirk took in the both of them. “For now.” He rose; took Ayaka by the hand, drew her to him for a long kiss, then led her over to Arthur, forming them into a small awkward triangle. “My sweetheart. Sorry to keep you waiting, darling. We’ll head over to Aniketos for the spells in a minute.”

Ayaka scowled at him, then glanced at Arthur and flushed. Dropped her eyes. “Have Misaya and Lancer been sighted?” she finally asked, her gaze on the floor.

“Not yet, but we might as well leave now anyway. We don’t want to look like we’re matching our movements to theirs.” A new thread entered his voice; a vein of dark earth, of stone, under his normal easy, pleasant tones. “You two go first. I’ll go my own way with Mother and Claudia Justina. Be in the bookstore by five.” His hands sought and seized theirs; held them tightly, then let them drop. “One of my people will always be following you when you’re outside, just in case. We won’t be able to communicate unless it’s an absolute emergency, remember. So you two need to be in your places, stick to the plan.”

Ayaka nodded. “I’ll be up in the cafe, watching, and Arthur will stay down in the shelves, where it’ll be easier for you to “confront” him. He shouldn't be hard to spot: not many people as tall as him. Or--” Her cheeks turned pale pink “--as good looking.”

“Yeah.” Lucius Tiberius looked at her for a moment, his face strangely serious, then gently brushed his thumb over the curve of her jaw. “Everyone who sees him wants him, isn’t that right? We have to fight for our Arthur.” His smile was wide, sincere and wicked and a muscle loosened in Arthur’s chest. “Let’s go to it, then. Off to war. Let’s _conquer_.”

Ten minutes to five.

Carefully, he replaced the book on Japanese art that he’d been reading back on the shelf, then began an unhurried loop through customers and shelves that would take him back around into Ayaka’s line of sight. She had perched herself at one of the outer tables on the balcony, a dish of ice cream before her, and was doing an excellent job of pretending to be a Master who was pretending to be calm in the face of overwhelming fear. He was proud of her.

His head ached slightly under the burden of Aniketos’ magic. Without the Emperor the borders of his body felt loose and permeable, as if he could press a finger into the cover of a book and meld with it; turn his flesh to pasteboard and colored paper. _Is this how a Servant normally feels? Three days and what changes already wrought._

Passing through the mythology section, gold caught his eye: a book, a slim sword chased in metalwork and gems, Grail-given knowledge already deciphering the title for him: _ Le Morte d’Arthur._

Calmly, quietly, he turned away; walked a few steps more. Raised his eyes to his beloved, his queen and his wife--

\--and looked up just in time to see Lucius Tiberius, grinning like a snake, sitting down across from Ayaka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nooooo, lucius tiberius, that was not the plan. what are you doing you idiot?
> 
> i love how every time arthur and lucius tiberius have long conversations alone together lucius whips out some new horrible trauma from his life to depress arthur with, and then uses it as an excuse to bang.
> 
> sorry for the delay, but rl stuff was going on and god, fgo, stop with the back to back events already! 
> 
> next chapter: lucius tiberius doesn't stick to the plan and things go very downhill from there.


End file.
